


Forlorn Hope

by foggynite



Category: The Brotherhood (Movies), The Brotherhood III
Genre: Coming Out, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Frottage, Happy Ending, High School, LARPing, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Post-Movie, Pre-Movie, Spoilers, pig dissection (science class)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 22:34:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30045804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foggynite/pseuds/foggynite
Summary: Roger doesn't mind doing the Friday night geek thing so much any more.
Relationships: Lex/Roger (The Brotherhood), background Mike/Tony, background Stan/Kip, background Victoria/Megan





	Forlorn Hope

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collection of 11 fics written on Livejournal from around 2002 to like 2005? 2006? Rather than keep them separate, I rolled them into one fic and kept them in chronological order.

Lex always sits in the back row, nearest the windows. That way no one will walk behind him, or come in the door next to him, or any of that crap. He just wants to slump in his chair and read his paperback unmolested. The black lab tables have two seats each, but none of his classmates sit next to him if they can help it. It didn't take long to cultivate the Fuck Off vibes with this group.

At least he's in the "smart" classes for his sophomore year, and since the only honors courses available are given in the morning, that means there aren't many choices left for those students with their other classes. But he actually doesn't mind having to see the same plebeian faces in every class now that he has them trained. This herd of pseudo-intellectuals and future politicians don't know what to make of his glowering visage and apparent lack of Life Goals, and therefore avoid him whenever possible. Everyone is happier that way.

He sprawls farther in the wheeled lab chair and waits for the bell. The nebulous space before each class is what he hates the most. It's bad enough he gets stuck in a room and droned at for forty-five minutes, but then he has to muck around for five minutes in between? He can feel the precious seconds of his life ticking away, and usually torments himself by thinking of all the things he could be doing at home. Locking himself away in his musty, dimly lit room sounds like heaven.

Lex sighs and turns the page of his book.

Mr. Ecker hurries in with exactly one minute to spare. Lex could set his watch to the man. He doesn't get why the guy always looks so frazzled. It's high school. No one cares if he's a few minutes late. It's not like he has to worry about this bunch of sheep walking out on him or blowing up the lab.

As tempting as that thought is...

Sometimes Lex feels sorry for Ecker. The guy's single, in his late forties, taller than the doorway, and nearly bald. Whenever someone asks him a question, he turns bright red and has to say "Um" at least twice before he can formulate a response. But, Ecker leaves Lex alone and doesn't hover or ask about Ramsey like the rest of the teachers who remember his brother do. He doesn't look at Lex like he's about to break down. Like he's some kind of teenage train wreck waiting to happen. So yeah, Lex kinda likes the poor guy and pretends to pay attention half the time. It's more than he does for his other teachers.

He doesn't get excited with the rest of the class when Ecker announces that it's a practical lab day. In fact, Lex quietly dreads the units that require partners, and pig dissection is one of them. The girls sitting in front of him make a big show of being disgusted, and he kind of agrees. Not that he'd say anything.

"Um, uh, Roger, why don't you partner with Lex today? Since Dave is, um, absent."

Lex doesn't glare at Ecker's scarlet face, instead directing it at the boy on the other side of the second-to-last row. Roger the jock, who thankfully isn't in any of Lex's other classes because then Lex would have to kill the idiot. The boy just sits there and smiles vacantly all the time. It drives Lex nuts.

"Sure," Roger says easily, still grinning. He glances over at Lex and the smile dims a second before perking back up. Damn.

Lex puts his book away in his backpack with exaggerated care, just so that he won't have to watch the other boy gather his things and walk over.

"Hey." Roger plunks his bag down on the floor. "Do you want to get the pig or the supplies?"

"Whatever." Lex shrugs and looks quickly up at his face before studying the mass of students gathered at the front desk. "Given the choice between sharp objects and dead fetuses, I think I prefer the potential weapons."

"Somehow I knew you'd say that."

It's said teasingly, but Lex stares him down until Roger shifts uncomfortably.

"Yeah, I'll just go get that pig."

Lex sits for a moment after the other boy wanders off, telling himself it's only the winter season that's making him so angry. He doesn't have the energy to play nice with all the snow and overcast clouds outside. So what if the dumbass in line next to him gives him a pointed glance when Lex goes to pick up the scalpel and scissors? Or that one of the stupid girls snickers at his baggy black pants and oversized flannel shirt on his way back to the table? Screw her. He likes being comfortable.

Roger's waiting with the pig tray, tying string around the smelly thing's legs, and Lex wrinkles his nose at the odor. He hates this formaldehyde shit.

"Do you want to do the cutting?" Roger asks solicitously as Lex pulls on the rubber gloves. Lex gives him his best sarcastic look.

"How about I read the instructions and translate for you, hm?"

Roger frowns at him for a moment, then shrugs. "Whatever, man. I'll do it if you don't want to."

"Thanks so much."

The jock lets the snide tone slide, and Lex is half tempted to see how far he can push him. They've never spoken before, even though they had a class together last year, and Lex doubts the boy even knew he was alive before today. But there's something about Roger that's always irritated Lex. Something that triggers the urge to kick puppies. Because the guy is just so clueless and naive and *dumb* that Lex can't stand it when he hears him talking in the halls or in class. No one intelligent can be that fucking happy all the time.

Before Lex can really prepare himself, Roger makes the opening incision with the scalpel before switching to the scissors. Lex looks at the yellowish fat bulging out of the cut and sees a broken windshield with snowflakes drifting down. He can't swallow for a second and focuses determinedly on the dry erase board over Roger's shoulder.

"Dude, this is so gross," Roger mutters as he keeps hacking away. Lex nods wordlessly.

When Roger's done opening the chest and abdomen, he glances up at Lex and obviously forgets what he was going to say. "Hey, are you all right?"

"I'm fine." The anger comes right back and Lex glares at him, flipping the page of the lab manual. "We need to identify the stomach and liver first."

"Yeah." The jock starts poking around inside clumsily with a dull pointer. Some of the organs look like they're about to tear.

"Here, let me do it." With a sigh, Lex takes the instrument from him, carefully avoiding touching even with the gloves, and gently separates the organs apart.

"So," Roger smiles, after a minute of staring into the pig guts. "Do you do a lot of reading? I mean, I always see you with a book..."

"Yes. Lex like books." He makes a caveman grunt and then rolls his eyes at Roger. "Do _you_ do a lot of reading, super jock?"

Ignoring the jab, Roger points to the next step and shifts into a more comfortable stance. "When I have the time. I'm on the wrestling team now, and football season just ended. But I like mysteries, and military history."

"Good for you," Lex mutters under his breath and hopes the other boy will shut up. Lex doesn't want to know about him and his stupid hobbies.

"So what kind do you read?" Roger asks awkwardly. His smile is a little uncomfortable, and Lex wishes he would just drop the chatting. But the goth finally shrugs and takes pity on him.

"Sci-fi. Fantasy. Horror." He scratches at the peritoneum covering a kidney. "But you probably knew I'd say that."

Roger looks nonplussed and just says, "That's cool," before letting his gaze wander over the rest of the classroom. 

Lex grips the probe tighter and grinds his teeth. He hates school. Hates it.

They finish the rest of the lab in a basically easy silence, speaking only when they need to clarify something. Or at least it seems easy for Roger, who looks more relaxed. Lex is just determined to finish as quickly as possible. Ecker wanders over near the end, looming behind the jock to peer at their progress.

"So how's it going, guys?" He asks with a grin that Roger mirrors.

"Fine. It's easy with the dye."

Lex just keeps loosening the lungs from around the heart and tries to stay detached from the proceedings. He doesn't like to think that this pig was killed just so he could do a half-assed autopsy on it.

"Good, good." Ecker claps a friendly hand on Roger's shoulder and moves on to the next table.

If he tried to touch Lex, he'd probably pull back a stump and probably realizes that. Not that Lex wants his teachers to be comfortable around him or anything. He thinks it's annoying how the preppies and normal kids are all friendly with the staff, joking around and shit. They're teachers, not people you trust. Like those damn social workers that always try to be all buddy-buddy with him and Ramsey. Because they're not just doing their jobs, oh no.

Lex pushes the pig tray away at last and stretches his back. "That's it, then."

"Cool." Roger starts putting the tools in the tray. "Thanks for the help, man."

That makes Lex glance up, actually looking at the other boy full on for once. He's caught by the whiteness of Roger's teeth, and the jock's bright eyes. It takes him a moment to realize the thanks was just a social nicety, and he tells himself he isn't disappointed at the shallowness.

"Whatever," he finally responds stiltedly. Roger's already walking away.

The next day, Lex pulls out his sketchpad as he's waiting for class to begin. He hasn't drawn much in the past year, but he's kept the small pad on him out of habit. It's worn edges are comforting under his fingertips.

He flips past a few idle sketches and surreptitiously looks across the room. Roger is draped over his table, goofing off with the guy next to him and the people in front. His laugh is obnoxious and he doesn't care that he's blinding everyone with his teeth, so loud and vibrant and alive. Lex focuses on the way his pencil catches at the thick paper.

He tells himself to stop being stupid. Hope is for naive idiots who don't know what it feels like to hate to smile.

~~~

Roger taps his foot against the book counter he’s sitting on, listening to the resounding thud it makes for the fifteenth time. He’s been counting, too, because the sound drives Lex absolutely nuts, and pissing the goth off has become a new hobby of Roger’s since he started doing this Friday geek night thing.

It’s kind of funny, because he’s generally a nice guy. He prides himself on being able to get along with everyone and being open to new things. But there’s something about Lex’s cooler-than-thou attitude that makes him want to push the goth’s buttons, make him lighten up. But Lex is in militant dictator mode and can’t be troubled with socializing while he’s giving maniacal speeches through the PA system.

Well, Roger’s open to most new things. This whole live action role-playing gig still weirds him out, because-- Really. They talk about their characters like they’re actual people. They’re, like, emotionally involved with fictional beings, and get totally defensive if you imply it’s just a game. Sometimes he’ll walk up to Kip and Stan in the hall, and listen to them talk about what so-and-so said to so-and-so, and only realize after a few minutes that they’re talking about their characters.

But, hey. To each his own. And he has to admit that they can be pretty entertaining when they get so into it. He’d only grudgingly agreed to come with Victoria that first Friday because she spent so much time talking it up and going on about how involved they all got and how Lex always threw in some cool twists to spice things up. That’s the last time he’s going to do anything to impress a girl.

Now that he’s been to a few of the sessions, he’s tempted to try making a character, but he doesn’t know the first place to start. He asked Lex about it earlier in the day, and that’s why he’s sitting in the darkened library instead of following the others around the halls. Only Lex is the biggest freak of them all, because he takes his role as dungeon master sooo seriously, and they haven’t done much character-making in the past hour.

He’s caught Lex sneaking sideways glances at him all evening, though, and at first he thought it was just his imagination. But when he stared for a while to make sure he caught Lex in the act, the goth boy blushed deep enough to be seen in the shadows and turned back to his stack of player’s manuals, barking orders into the wireless microphone dangling from his ear.

Roger’s up to thirty-four foot taps, and yeah, he thinks it’s a fun way to spend his Friday nights. Things haven’t exactly turned out the way he expected—Victoria turning into an eyebrow-less demon dominatrix with bad 80s hair killed that spark of romantic interest quick—but he doesn’t mind the other opportunities it’s opened for him. At the moment, there’s no place else he’d rather be than making Lex grind his perfect white teeth into little nubs.

And maybe hanging around Lex just brings out his inner brat.

“Let’s see…” The other boy finally says, shining a pocket light on his hand-written notes. “We have Victoria and Stan dueling in the gym next, with the winner joining Kip and Megan in the third-floor shop class. Try not to maim each other.”

Roger can hear the echo of Lex’s precise voice from the speakers out in the hall, and he sees how being DM appeals to him. The other boy spends all his time during the day being as standoffish and unapproachable as possible, and role-playing offers him the perfect opportunity to pull people’s puppet strings without having to actually be involved with them.

He gets up to sixty-seven taps before Lex slams the book in front of him shut and spins to hiss, “Will you knock it the hell off?”

That’s thirteen more taps than the last time, and Roger can’t help smiling at him.

“Sure.”

He pushes off the counter, knowing his old t-shirt gives the other boy a good view of his stomach muscles. He’s been wearing fewer layers lately, even though it’s still winter, and he suspects (hopes) that Lex has noticed.

Lex turns quickly back to his battle plans, eyes averted, and Roger knows for sure that he’s noticed. His grin turns smug, and he’s glad the other boy isn’t looking.

Stan’s hinted during casual conversation that it isn’t Megan herself that Lex doesn’t like, but that the goth’s just not interested in her and it’s certainly not her fault, falling for someone “unattainable.” The pseudo-wizard’s also implied that maybe it’s not only a clash of personalities causing the friction between Lex and Victoria.

He had wondered why Victoria’s character seemed to die so gruesomely these past few games.

And yeah, Roger is a likable guy, people say lots of things in front of him, and he’s heard the locker room speculation about Lex’s delicate hands and the fact that he’s never had a girlfriend that anyone can remember. Plus there’s his tendency to wear eyeliner and a dog collar.

Roger’s staring at the buckle of that collar right now and thinking thoughts he really shouldn’t let himself indulge in. So instead he walks over to the counter Lex has appropriated and looks over the other boy’s shoulder. He might just happen to bump into Lex’s back, but hey, the little flashlight is really dim.

“Do you mind?” Lex mutters sarcastically at him, only Roger’s hung out with him enough to know that it’s just a bluff. The goth always sounds put-upon and angry, even when he’s smiling.

“I thought we were going to work on my character,” Roger says instead just as quietly. His stomach tightens when Lex shifts uncomfortably, craning his collared neck a little to the side. Roger might be invading the other boy’s space, but he can’t help himself if it means he gets a closer view of that pale skin.

“Yeah, well, I’m busy.” Lex doesn’t even turn his head to speak, keeping his eyes focused on his notebook. The page is outlined with violent stick figure doodles and Roger snorts.

“Yes, I can tell, oh fearless leader.” And he wasn’t this sarcastic before he started to hang out with Lex’s group either, but they’re rubbing off on him. It’s kinda fun.

“Fine.” Lex sighs and thrusts a book at him, taking the opportunity to slide down the counter farther away. “Look through this, decide what class and race and all you want to be, then we’ll talk.”

Roger looks dubiously at the inch thick tome, then at Lex. “Say what?”

“Hold on a sec,” Lex growls and turns around, thumbing the button on his mic receiver to tell the players where to go next.

“This--” He slaps a piece of paper down in front of Roger when he’s finished, “—is your character sheet. Fill in the top part, and we can figure out the rest.”

“Right.” He sighs and starts idly flipping through the book. He doesn’t recognize half the terms, so he spends a good hour just figuring out what’s what.

In the meantime, he drifts closer to the reading light while the goth tracks everyone on his building map. Roger starts drumming his finger on the spine of the book. Lex glances at him warily.

“Can’t you find someplace else to read?”

“Nope.”

“Quit tapping, then.”

Roger shrugs, but does go still, feeling accomplished. “What are all these bubbles?”

“Huh?” He’d swear Lex is staring at his fingers. He wiggles the tips and Lex’s eyes quickly go back to his face.

“These things.” Roger points. Lex’s cheeks are bright red.

“Oh, um. Those are your proficiencies. Each class gets different levels to start with.”

“And I know that how?”

“Just—Read this. You’ll figure it out.” Lex grabs one of his notebooks from the pile and shoves it at him like he did the other book, turning quickly away. Roger takes it with a sigh.

“Right.”

Lex’s handwriting is a little hard to read, but there are lists that explain the twenty-odd items on the character sheet. Interspersed on the pages between the lists are school notes and some pretty detailed sketches of fantasy characters. The quality of the art is far beyond stick doodles, with a lot of attention paid to shading and texture.

Soon, Roger forgets the character sheet and just looks for the artwork, finding it crammed in the corners or on an entire side of a page. A few sketches are recognizable as Kip in his loin cloth costume and Megan in her elf gear, only they’re drawn to look like their characters. The resemblance is impressive, and he’s about to comment on it to Lex, but he flips the page and sees himself, drawn in full battle armor. He’s leaning on a sword and smiling wistfully at something out of sight.

Roger studies the picture for a moment, debating now whether he should mention anything. Commenting on the other drawings would probably make Lex touchy, but this would embarrass the reticent boy entirely and he probably wouldn’t speak to Roger until next week. If then.

The Dungeon Master reaches absently for another book, and Roger startles, feeling guilty. He quickly turns the page, hoping to find an explanatory list, but instead it’s another drawing of himself. Only this one is of Roger slumped at a school desk, the corner of a bulletin board behind him, and it’s enough for him to recognize the classroom.

Biology, which he took in tenth grade. He tries to remember back almost two years, and yeah, Lex had that class with him. The goth boy had been quieter back then, with fewer friends that Roger could tell, and always sat by himself. But damn.

They’re halfway through their senior year now, and Lex has been sketching him for how long?

He shoots a look at the other boy, but Lex isn’t paying him any attention. Actually, the degree of effort he’s put into ignoring Roger tonight might have even been offensive, if it wasn’t for the evidence in the notebook. Roger tries to casually continue looking through it.

The next few pages are random sketches, one of Stan, an unflattering one of Victoria. There’s a list of weapons that goes on for five pages, but he finally finds another sketch of himself. It’s a profile, tucked in a corner, just his head and upper chest. His naked upper chest, and he’s flattered that Lex thinks he has that kind of muscle definition.

If the other pictures hadn’t clued him in, this one would have. The rush it gives him is dizzying.

“Figure things out?” Lex asks, looking over with his pencil poised mid-air. The other players’ character sheets are spread out in front of him.

“Uh. Yeah.” Roger swallows thickly. “Yeah, I did.”

“Cool. So what’s it gonna be?” The goth is giving him the usual smirk, and Roger doesn’t think he remembers what’s in this notebook.

“I was thinking of something with a sword,” he says, smiling. “Since I’m so good with one.”

Lex chuckles dryly. “I know Ramsey appreciated your mad swinging skills. He keeps asking when you’re coming over for dinner.”

“When he can guarantee that he doesn’t have any other artifacts that might demonically possess someone lying around.” He’s only half-joking on that.

“Heh. Good luck.” Moving closer, Lex takes control of the blank character sheet. “So what’s it going to be: fighter, paladin, or ranger?”

“Which one’s a knight?”

If he wasn’t looking, he would have missed it. Lex only pauses a second before reaching for the player’s handbook, using the movement as a cover while his eyes flicker over the various notebooks on the counter. Roger wonders if he just can’t remember which one has the picture in it, or if Lex has more sketches of him hidden away. He’s definitely curious.

Clearing his throat, Lex opens the book to the section on classes. “Yeah, I can see you as that.”

“Cool.” Roger doesn’t bother hiding his grin as he leans in closer, shoulder touching the other boy’s. Lex looks at him, but this time his eyes don’t skitter away when he sees Roger staring back.

A feminine cough comes from behind them, and Roger turns to see Victoria standing in the doorway. Her expression might be suspicious, or it might be pissed, but it’s hard to tell when she’s talking to Lex.

“Since I was brutally massacred by a horde of orcs, I figured I’d hang out in here,” she says shortly. Roger nods and turns to Lex, who looks bored and waves them off as he returns to his plans.

“Good, you can help him with his character.”

This time, Roger doesn’t mind being ignored. He has plenty of time.

~~~

“You’re not a homeless person, Roger. So why are you dressed like one?” Lex asks dryly, arms crossed over his chest, heavy leather bracelets clanking together.

“I don’t think—“ Roger starts to defend his new costume, but Lex interrupts.

“You’re a knight. Knights are supposed to wear things like tunics and armor. And leather. Not-- whatever the hell this is.”

Tugging on the shirt Victoria has sewn for him, Roger resists the urge to sigh at Lex’s tactlessness and glances apologetically over at the blonde girl. She doesn’t even notice the gesture because she’s too busy glaring at Lex.

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” she snaps, waving her scissors around threateningly.

“It looks like he’s wearing a burlap sack,” Lex replies tartly. He eyes Roger critically again, raising an eyebrow and smirking at the other boy’s obvious discomfort.

Roger knows Lex is evil. But he can’t help the flush that spreads across his cheeks under Lex’s kohl-lined gaze. Those appraising looks have been happening frequently since that night in the library and it’s a thrill, but Roger really doesn’t want to antagonize Victoria unnecessarily at the moment.

He clears his throat and smiles. “I think it looks fine, Victoria.”

“See! He thinks it looks cool.” She points the sharp end of the scissors at Lex. “You approved the pattern yourself. That’s why I showed it to you first, because I knew you’d be a dick about it, so you have no room to complain.”

“You showed me a stick figure with a few strategically drawn squares and said it would be better than that,” Lex says haughtily. “I didn’t realize you actually intended to use pillowcases and sheets. It looks like some kid’s half-assed Halloween costume.”

“Like you can fucking sew, Lex. You don’t even wear a costume! Quit being such a bitch about it,” she yells, making Roger jump. Lex’s eyes narrowed at her dangerously and Roger looks nervously between the two role-players.

Sure, he knows they fight a lot, and maybe don’t even really like each other despite being called friends. He picked up on that one even before he started hanging out with their group. Hell, the whole school has picked up on it because one of them normally shouts obscenities down the hall at the other at least once a day. Usually the jabs are exchanged with some degree of levity, though.

But the way they’ve been carrying on lately, and especially since Roger arrived at Lex’s house earlier in the evening, is way beyond the usual mocking, even for them. He has his suspicions on what set them off this time, since they were glaring when he showed up, but he’s not about to ask because he isn’t that stupid. He’s pretty sure, though, that Victoria’s figured out there’s something going on between him and Lex, and that scares him more than he wants to admit. He’s seen her being vindictive.

So he just stays quiet as she starts shoving her sewing supplies in her carry bag and Lex puts on that condescending expression that used to make Roger want to punch him. Well, it still makes him want to punch the goth, but it also makes his stomach twist, and he doesn’t mind that.

What he does mind—and he’s actually kind of pissed about-- is that Lex is purposefully using him to provoke Victoria. The DM had insisted that Roger come over before their role-playing game this week so that he could get an actual costume made, and he knew exactly what Victoria was going to make.

She’s been sketching ideas since Roger made his character, and she was so excited about it, he couldn’t refuse her offer. Even when he saw what she came up with. Which, yeah. He kind of agrees with Lex. He feels more like a monk than a knight. And he’s beginning to think that a costume might even be cool, in an “Oh God please never let there be pictures or witnesses” kind of way. Only, man, does he feel like an idiot in this get up. But it could be worse. He thinks of Kip running around in a loin cloth and shudders.

But he isn’t going to say any of that out loud when she has sharp objects within reach and has spent all this time on it, unlike some people.

“He’s not wearing that to one of my games,” Lex finally drawls, breaking the tense silence.

Victoria stands straighter, lifting her chin defiantly. “Fine. I did my best. You dress him. Since you obviously have such great fashion sense.”

Roger doesn’t know whether to be relieved that he can now get out of the baggy tent she’s wrapped a belt around and called a shirt, or to be afraid that she has essentially thrown him on Lex’s mercy. But then, Roger seems to have developed a thing for horror stories lately.

“At least you admit one of us has taste,” Lex says coolly.

She throws up her hands in resignation. “Whatever.”

“Truth hurts, hm?”

He always acts like nothing can touch him and it drives Roger nuts. When Lex gets in a real snit, he goes quiet and sarcastic, and couldn’t care less if there are casualties, which makes Roger a little wary of actually pissing him off. The blonde girl, however, has no such reservations and pushes as many buttons as she can, and generally gets stung because of it.

Rolling her eyes at Lex, Victoria hefts the bag onto her shoulder. Taking a few steps towards the door, she turns back expectantly when Roger doesn’t follow. “Well? Aren’t you coming?”

“I’d like to get this whole costume thing straightened out,” he tells her with a rueful shrug. Sometimes her bossiness gets on his nerves, so he doesn’t feel too bad for staying. Not that he would say that, either. “I can’t do it any other night this week.”

She just stares at him skeptically, but before she can say anything, Lex speaks up.

“He said he wants to stay here with me, Victoria darling. Why don’t you run along now and let us boys play, hm?”

A look passes between them that makes Roger want to grind his teeth. Victoria glances away first, and Lex’s expression turns smug.

“Bitch,” she mutters and storms from the living room without saying goodbye, slamming the front door on her way out.

“Meeowch,” Lex mocks in the direction she went, obviously not bothered at all. In fact, he looks happier than he has all night.

“Don’t you think you’re being kind of harsh, man?” Roger asks quietly, and Lex turns to him with a disbelieving look. “She’s just upset, okay? She worked hard on this,” He picks at the shirt. “But I think she’s been… distracted.”

Lex just snorts, and that makes Roger even more annoyed at the boy, so he mentions something he told himself not to.

“Look, she asked me to go to Prom with her.”

That gets Lex’s attention. His next words are snide, but Roger can tell he’s trying not to be upset. “So what? Congratulations. Should that make me feel sorry for her? Or you?”

“I turned her down.” Roger keeps his gaze steady, staring into Lex’s eyes and willing him to understand. Lex breaks first and studies his fingernails with a sniff.

“Okay. She doesn’t get her trophy date. So sad for her,” he mumbles.

Roger sighs and tries again. “Lex. Just ease up a little? Y’know, maybe try to see it from her side…”

“Whatever. She’s still acting like a bitch.” The goth says and turns away, but Roger catches a glimpse of remorse on his face, so he lets it slide.

In the resulting silence, he stands awkwardly in the middle of the living room. With another sigh, he tries to find his street clothes under all the patterns, fabrics, and string. His life was far more peaceful before he agreed to hang out with all of them.

“Oh, don’t get changed on my account,” Lex says suddenly with a wicked smile. Roger’s almost gotten used to the mood swings, too. “Come on upstairs and we’ll see if I have anything for you.”

If he thought that Lex being reserved and private was hot, then flirting Lex? Totally melts his brain and reduces him to one-word answers, and never mind the fact that they just had what was probably their first serious disagreement.

“Alright.”

Blushing, he follows behind Lex and curses himself for an easily distracted fool. He doubts the scrawny boy has anything he can wear, because Lex likes his shirts tight and his pants tighter. Not that Roger is noticing that kind of thing. Not at all. Just like he’s studiously watching where he puts his feet on the steps instead of the ass wiggling in front of him.

“So,” he says quickly, wincing at his own lameness but wanting to break the quiet tension. “How’s… everything else been?”

He mentally kicks himself. He isn’t a dumb jock. Honest. It’s all Lex’s fault for throwing him off balance with arguments and eyeliner and faithfully clinging pants.

But Lex doesn’t seem to mind his vagueness.

“Well enough, I suppose,” he responds, glancing over his shoulder at him with a faint grin, and Roger knows he’s feeling the tension, too. “Ramsey pretends he wasn’t possessed by the cheesiest villain known to man, and I pretend he didn’t turn most of my friends into soft porn rejects. That way we can still look each other in the eye over dinner.”

Roger has to laugh at the dry delivery and some of the awkwardness dissipates. It’s still just Lex, role-playing geek extraordinaire. Who happens to be really fucking hot. The goth flicks on the upstairs light and leads Roger down a surprisingly normal hall. He half expected weird Egyptian scrolls and sarcophagi to line the walls.

“Where is he, anyway?”

“Eh. He joined some local fencing club trying to make friends.” Lex rolls his eyes as he pauses to open a door. He waves his hand at the dark interior with a flourish. “Welcome to my dungeon.”

While the living room and hall can pass as normal, Lex’s bedroom certainly declares his unique personality. Roger trails behind the other boy as Lex wades through a pile of clothes to get to his closet. It’s a fairly large room, crowded with bookshelves and posters, and enough candles to make Roger’s dad scream “Fire Hazard.” The black sheets and curtains are unsurprising.

“I think I have just the shirt for you…” Lex calls from the depths of the closet.

Roger shrugs at the muffled voice, and realizes a response probably isn’t expected anyway. He pushes the billowing sleeves of his “tunic” out of the way and peers at the books on the shelves, mostly fantasy paperbacks and RPG manuals. A gargoyle skull is staring at him. All the band posters are filled with angry, unkempt men and pretty boys in make-up.

Yeah. Lex’s room, all right.

“Here.” A black ball of fabric is thrown at his head and he catches it deftly. Lex emerges from the closet clutching another shirt and something suede. “Try that one on. It might fit you.”

It’s different getting undressed in Lex’s bedroom instead of the living room. Before, he had quickly shrugged out of his t-shirt and into the tent, conscious of Victoria staring at him. He hadn’t let himself look at Lex. But now…

“So,” he focuses on unbuckling his belt, taking a moment to nod at a poster on the wall. “Isn’t that some wrestler guy? Or is it just a mime from hell?”

Lex turns to study the poster of a man in face paint smirking and lifts one shoulder. “Brandon Lee. From The Crow. He died during filming, but they finished it anyway. I’d lose my goth card if I didn’t have at least one article of Crow memorabilia in my domicile…”

And by the time he turns to face Roger again, the jock has his new shirt safely on. It gapes open halfway down his chest, but there are these strings that. Won’t. Cooperate.

“Dude, that’s morbid,” he says as he frowns uselessly at the laces.

“That’s why it’s goth,” Lex deadpans and steps over to him. “Let me do it before you hurt yourself.”

His breath catches in his throat when he gets a whiff of Lex’s cologne, so painfully aware of the other boy standing close. It’s a moment before he can respond without his voice cracking. “I think I can figure out how to lace up a shirt, man.”

“Yes, you were doing so well…”

The knuckles of Lex’s hand touch his chest with each hole the leather lace is pulled through. His rings are cold and Roger blames them for his shiver. He closes his eyes in embarrassment when he feels his nipples harden, easily visible through the thin black cotton, and he hopes the baggy pants are enough to hide his awakening erection.

If he leans forward just a little…

It was a bad idea to stay. So yeah, he thinks Lex might be interested—Well, he’s pretty damn sure Lex is interested—but they haven’t really said anything, and he doesn’t want to freak the other boy out, because it might all be some little flirty game to Lex and then Roger will never be able to look him in the eye again.

“How high would you like it?” Lex asks, but his voice is strained. For some reason, that makes Roger relax.

“Try not to choke me.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Lex returns his smile with a smirk, glancing at Roger through his lashes. 

They’re the same height, but somehow Lex always makes him feel shorter. He can feel the dampness of Lex’s breath on his face and neck, and the warmth radiating from his body, even though the room isn’t that cold. He tries not to shift uncomfortably under the intense focus the other boy seems to be putting into a simple task. His cheeks are flushed, but he’s never really felt this aware of someone else.

When Lex steps away, Roger is finally able to breathe normally. Lex stares at his handiwork for a moment, eyes riveted on Roger’s chest until the jock can’t take it anymore and crosses his arms. Lex blinks and gives him a smug grin.

“Much better.”

Roger looks down, and yeah, he can move without setting sail, so it’s an improvement. The amount of skin showing, though, makes him nervous.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Trust me.”

He glances at Lex quickly, but the other boy is fiddling with the piece of black suede.

“Here,” Lex holds it out like a jacket and Roger forces his feet to move, turning around to shrug into it. “This, my friend, is what a jerkin should look like.”

It’s heavier than he expected. Real leather, and the smell is stronger than Lex’s cologne. He doesn’t mind. When he fixes the two buckles on it, it manages to cover his lap, and that’s all he cares about. The room is beginning to feel stifling.

“The pants can stay, I suppose. She did that part right, and you’re shorter than Ramsey, anyway.” Lex is eyeing him critically again, chin resting in his hand, but this time it’s with an air of satisfaction.

“This all his?” Roger asks as Lex walks over to close the bedroom door, revealing a mirror on its back. He steps out of the way so Roger can see himself and returns the other shirt back to the closet.

“Yeah. He worked at a RenFaire through high school. I got his hand-me-downs.”

“Huh. Did you get his geekiness too, or is that all your own?”

“I don’t think you have much room to talk, now that we’ve brought you over to the dark side.”

The banter is really just a cover now. Roger pretends to study his costume in the mirror while watching Lex bend over to move his dirty clothes pile back in front of the closet door. He tells himself to look away before Lex catches him. He really should. He’s not fast enough, though, and part of him wants to be caught.

Lex just glances up, eyes meeting Roger’s in the mirror, and quirks an eyebrow. His hips cant to the side, flexing his ass, and it’s a challenge.

Like what you see?

Hell yeah.

Roger swallows with difficulty as Lex stands up straight again. He can hear the hum of the air conditioning kicking on, the sound of a car passing by outside. His heart’s trying to tear out of his chest, because the smirk has faded from Lex’s face and now the other boy just looks… unsure. Roger’s palms are ridiculously sweaty.

He turns around, and neither of them can look the other in the eye. Lex ducks his head, toeing a shirt into the pile. Roger tries to breathe evenly. It’s like the final play in a game, when the crowd is screaming and the coach is yelling and his entire body is shaking from the adrenaline. The rush.

Aw. Fuck it. He likes Lex. A lot.

He steps forward and Lex looks up, breath catching as Roger slides a hand around his waist. For a moment Lex’s shoulders tense and Roger’s afraid he messed up, but the other boy just reaches out to place his hand on Roger’s hip, below the leather jerkin. His palm is hot.

The first kiss is kind of clumsy, both of them pushing as though he can show the other how he feels by enthusiasm alone. Roger cups Lex’s cheek and opens his mouth, licking across the goth’s lips. He takes advantage of the resulting gasp and slides his tongue in, running it along Lex’s teeth, his tongue, the roof of his mouth.

This wanting will frighten him in a moment, he’s sure. This need to touch as much of Lex as possible, to take and own and he just. Needs so much. Needs.

Lex is tugging on his hips with both hands now, pulling their crotches flush, and yeah. The smell of leather and Lex’s cologne and the taste of his mouth. The wet sounds their tongues and lips are making. His harsh pants through his nose.

The buckles of the jerkin are digging in, but Lex’s fingers are there before he can pull away. They fumble with the straps, tugging ineffectually, and Roger breaks the kiss, breathing harshly. He smiles sheepishly at Lex’s frustrated expression and the other boy stares at his mouth for a moment before smiling back. They both turn their attention to the jerkin, quickly releasing it with shaking hands.

The material of his costume is so thin, it feels like he’s naked already and he groans when Lex runs teasing hands up his chest, fingers catching on his nipples. Electricity shoots through him, from his nipples to his balls, and he grabs Lex’s ass, walking them the few steps to the bed.

They tumble down and it could be awkward, but it isn’t because as soon as Lex scoots back, Roger’s stretched out over top of him, hovering so that he can take in Lex’s flushed cheeks and bright eyes. The other boy’s lips are swollen and shiny with spit and he has to lick them again. Lex gasps and tugs at his ass until they’re touching. Everywhere.

He can’t think through the haze of feeling, like his skin has been stripped back and his nerves are on fire and at the first rub of his cock on Lex’s, his higher brain functions just cease. They’re still in their clothes and Lex’s cargo pants have to be uncomfortable, but the friction feels so good he has to groan and bury his face in Lex’s neck as the other boy plants his boots on the mattress, using the leverage to push up harder, hands fisting against his back. There’s sweat gathering on him, a sticky sheen, but he just opens his mouth against Lex’s pulse, tonguing the fluttering skin, and tastes salt and Lex and the tightness in his belly is just too much to hold in and he groans again, incoherent syllables, humping against the other boy faster—

And Lex goes still underneath him, every muscle tense as his head arches back into the sheets, a strangled moan escaping him that Roger can feel with his lips against his throat, and that sound. That broken sound, and the fact that Lex just came. In his pants. Because of Roger.

His hold on Lex tightens hard enough to squeeze a grunt out of the other boy, but the hands on his back just grip him tighter and urge him on, and he comes with Lex’s name floating somewhere in his throat, behind his teeth. He lets himself sag forward, head tucked into Lex’s shoulder.

They lay panting, sweat cooling on their skin, and he mouths the nearest flesh he can find. Lex shifts his hips, so Roger puts more of his weight on his side, still cradled between the goth’s legs.

“Oh man,” he whispers when his brain is working again.

“Yeah,” Lex breathes. “That was… unexpected.”

There’s a wariness in his voice that Roger wants to kiss out of him, so he pushes up on his elbow, looking down at Lex’s closed eyes. He waits until they open before he gently presses a kiss to Lex’s cheek, then his brow, his nose. When he reaches Lex’s mouth, the other boy is shaking again. Roger keeps the kiss chaste, and breaks away to nuzzle Lex’s cheek.

He takes a moment to revel in the simple contact, the feeling of Lex against his body, and a thought occurs to him. Lex frowns at his snort and pokes him.

“What?”

“I’m going to have to wash these before Friday.”

“Heh. So?”

“So.” He nips Lex’s ear and ignores the protests it draws. “How the hell am I supposed to play when all I’ll think of is this?”

Lex shrugs awkwardly, smirk firmly in place. “I’m sure I can think up some horrible death for your character, orcs or zombies or something. Lots of dismemberment.”

“You’re so sweet.” And he might not do dry sarcasm as well as Lex, but the other boy grins.

“Aren’t I?”

Roger shakes his head ruefully and knows he has a goofy smile on his face. There’s a sticky mess in his pants and the shirt is starting to get itchy, but he doesn’t care. He rests his forehead on Lex’s shoulder and stays a while.

~~~

He checks his hair for the fifth time in the truck’s rearview mirror. It’s fine. He’s fine. He’s just… not fine.

Taking a deep breath in the hopes of calming himself, Roger opens the door to his pick-up and hops down into Lex’s driveway. There’re patches of ice from the snow last night, but nothing terrible. He focuses on not slipping as he walks up to the front door.

It’s just dinner, he tells himself. Lex had mentioned it even before they (had sex) started kind of dating, and he would have agreed to it even if Lex wasn’t licking his ear when the subject came up on Friday.

Only a week. Roger hesitates before knocking. It’s only been a week, and he’s not sure how he feels. Like, the next day he’d been sure he had “Lost my virginity” stamped all over his forehead, but no one had noticed. He thinks. And him and Lex had bantered like normal, even if they maybe looked at each other a little bit more often. But he isn’t sure if the fact that they’ve already had sex means they can do it as often as they can find the time now, or if Lex maybe regrets rushing things. Because they’re definitely still into each other, proven by their make-out session in the library on Friday—he honestly hadn’t minded dying so soon in his first real game—but Lex hasn’t made any indication that he wants to do it again.

Not that that’s the only reason Roger’s hanging out with him. He likes the guy and would want to know him better even if he wasn’t the subject of Roger’s shower-time fantasies. But the sex thing…Just seems complicated and he’s never done this before. He feels like a different person, even though he’s still himself.

The door opens before he has a chance to ring the bell, and he blinks at Lex in surprise.

“Hi,” the goth says shortly. His eyes and mouth look stressed.

“Hi,” Roger smiles nervously.

Lex just nods and stands to the side so he can enter. When he shrugs out of his winter jacket, he hangs it on the coat rack he used last time. There’s the clatter of a pot in the kitchen and some inventive swearing. He glances at Lex, alarmed.

“He’s fine,” Lex frowns. The goth stays in the foyer, though, and waves a bit helplessly, stoic expression cracking. “He just—He’s trying to, like, cook. And he can’t. But it’s his turn tonight and we normally just have frozen pizza or something safe. From a box. But he’s in there, like, making stuff from recipes, and. Yeah.”

Roger doesn’t question his new habit of relaxing whenever the other boy shows that he’s nervous, and he grins as he lightly punches Lex in the arm.

“Hey, at least he’s trying, right?”

Lex rolls his eyes and shoves his hand away. “Trying to give us food poisoning, you mean.”

“I heard that!” Ramsey yells from the kitchen. There’s another clatter. “And I’m finished in here anyway. Make yourself useful and set the table, heathen.”

Rolling his eyes again, Lex motions for Roger to follow. They go past the living room and into the brightly lit kitchen. It’s a disaster area. Roger can feel his eyes go wide at the mess of mixing bowls, vegetable peels, and used utensils. Ramsey smiles at him, wearing a splattered apron over his dress shirt and slacks. Roger has to grin at the contrast to Lex’s black t-shirt and jeans. And Lex’s glower, as the other boy grabs the silverware to put on the table.

“Hi, Roger!” Ramsey says cheerfully, juggling two steaming pots. “It’s been a while. How’re you doing?”

“I’m good,” he says automatically, then steals a glance at Lex in the dining room. “Life’s been quiet.”

“Glad to hear,” the older man says as he takes the pots in to the table. “Quiet is definitely a good thing around here. Would you like something to drink?”

“I got it,” he responds and finds the cabinet with the glasses when Lex opens it for him. The goth gives him a smirk, and Roger feels better about the awkward small talk.

“So I hear you’re role-playing on Fridays?” Ramsey asks as he unties his apron. His expression is innocent when Lex glares at him. “Oh, am I not supposed to know about that?”

“I’m sure you won’t if we ever get caught,” Lex mutters darkly.

“I just started, really,” Roger says in an attempt to diffuse things. “I’ve never done it before, so I’ve been tagging along. I didn’t actually play until last week.”

“Ooh, a virgin! How cool! And Lex got to be your first DM.”

The teasing in the other man’s voice makes Roger blush scarlet. He casts a weak glance at Lex, who looks like he wants to break the plate he’s holding over his brother’s head.

“I remember my first time,” Ramsey continues wistfully, apparently oblivious to their reactions. “I was so nervous and completely convinced I’d be horrible at it. But it does get easier the more practice you have. And trying it with someone experienced does make it go so much smoother. It’s hard to have fun when everyone’s just fumbling around, trying to figure things out.”

While Ramsey’s speaking, he’s straightening the table and Lex makes a threatening motion at him with a butter knife that he ignores. He waves Roger over to join them, which the jock does warily.

“High school was so much different from my adventures in college. Back then, we just sat around a table and did things from paper. I didn’t get into live-action until my first year at the university, and of course I taught Lex everything he knows.” 

His fond smile for his brother is met with a middle finger, and Ramsey just chuckles. 

Roger keeps a pleasant expression tacked on his face.

“But Lex tells me you play sports?”

Roger freezes under the intense look now directed at him. “Uh, yes. Football.”

“I was more into basketball, myself. This is your off-season, though, right? I assume you wouldn’t have time on Fridays otherwise.”

Ramsey scoops some noodles onto his plate from a bowl, then ladles sauce from one of the pots on top of them. Roger follows suit, noticing Lex’s grimace when the sauce pot comes to him, and just hopes things are edible. Lex’s wince at the first bite doesn’t encourage him.

“Yeah, it is,” he responds as he accepts the pot from Lex with a quick grin. “Coach still has us training, though. I’ll probably do track in the spring.”

The older man makes an impressed noise. “Endurance is a useful thing to have, I’m sure. Which Lex should probably work on, with his asthma. Strengthen his lungs up. But I can never get him interested in anything remotely physical.”

Lex is glowering harder and poking at his plate. Roger tries to get some tomato sauce from the middle of the pot, since the sides are a little… charred. It falls onto his noodles with a plop. He smiles at Ramsey when the other man asks him how everything is.

“So what exactly do you do?” Roger asks in a desperate attempt to get the conversation off himself and Lex.

“Oh, I’m an associate professor, down at the university—“

They let Ramsey go on about his job and latest trip, wherein he didn’t come home possessed, and Roger feels a hard nudge on his leg from Lex’s side of the table. He doesn’t visibly respond, he hopes, but he does kick back and is satisfied when Lex twitches. Ramsey just keeps talking.

He manages to eat most of the pasta, which was boiled to a paste-like consistency, and the sauce isn’t too bad. A little spicy, but it goes down with enough water. Lex uses his fork to chase his food around the plate, just shifting the piles from one side to another.

When they’re all obviously finished and Ramsey has run out of things to say about his job, the older man stands up to stretch with a huge yawn.

“Well, that was better than I expected,” he says ruefully. “Although I probably should have tested it on Lex first, before giving it to our guest.”

“Ha ha.” Lex starts gathering his dishes. Roger picks up his own and follows the other two into the kitchen.

“Since I cooked, that means it’s your turn for dishes, squirt.” Ramsey makes like he’s going to pat Lex on the head, but a glance at his younger brother’s face changes his mind.

“I’ll go get the pots,” Roger says, glad to escape for a minute.

“Thank you, Roger,” Ramsey says with a poke to Lex’s side. The goth brandishes a dirty spatula at him and he backs off.

Roger has to smile to himself over the two of them. It makes him want a sibling of his own, when he doesn’t usually mind being an only child. Ramsey starts speaking again, but this time it’s too low for him to hear, especially when Lex starts running water in the sink.

He piles the remaining pots together, frowning down into the sauce one. Carrying the pots back into the kitchen, he wonders if they’ll need a sand blaster to get the burnt sauce off, and looks up in time to catch Lex’s crimson face before the other boy turns quickly to the sink. Ramsey’s standing next to him, beaming brightly, and Roger has to grin back. Because, yeah, the guy’s not so bad when not demonically possessed. Just a little overwhelming.

“Well,” Ramsey says through another huge yawn. “I think I’ll just turn in for the night.”

“It’s only eight,” Lex says in a strangled voice, shoulders hunched as he scrubs furiously at a plate.

“All that fencing earlier must have worn me out.” There’s a smug tone in Ramsey’s voice that Roger attributes to natural confidence (so different from Lex and it’s a wonder they’re related), but then Ramsey winks at him and he has to blush, stumbling on his way over to the sink.

Ramsey chuckles and Lex’s shoulders twitch, and Roger decides smiling vacantly in the older brother’s general direction will have to do for now.

“Night, boys. Just remember, you have school tomorrow. Don’t keep each other up too late,” Ramsey calls out as he heads up the stairs.

It’s kind of an odd thing for him to say, but Roger shrugs it off, happy to finally be alone with Lex. He sets the pots on the counter and reaches for a dish rag, accepting the dripping plate Lex silently hands him. He wants to say something, but from the stiffness of Lex’s posture, he’s afraid the other boy got into a fight with his brother or something in the short time he was in the dining room. Ramsey didn’t look mad, but then, he hadn’t looked demonically possessed either.

Roger hopes he isn’t possessed again.

Lex sighs, drawing Roger’s worried gaze away from the stairs, and the jock’s pleased to note that he’s relaxing now that they can’t hear Ramsey puttering around upstairs. Between Victoria’s dirty looks and Megan’s sniffles and Stan’s new yenta tendencies, they haven’t gotten to talk much about anything at school—Not that they really can talk at school, anyway— and they haven’t discussed what’s going on between them, which he’d really like to. Because Roger knows there’s a thing, it’s just unlabeled, and he doesn’t know if that bothers Lex or not.

And he’s glad that Lex has been dubbed “The scary freak guy that will most likely become a serial killer” by all of Roger’s jock friends, because no one has made an issue of them hanging out yet, aside from a few snide comments that one look from Lex quelled. Roger’s fairly certain that if their relationship did make the gossip mill, most of his other friends wouldn’t care. And those that did, well, they weren’t really his friends to begin with, obviously. Only, he’s not sure if Lex would be as cavalier about it and it’s a risk they’re taking.

He just doesn’t want to be the one to point that out, in case Lex does freak.

After finishing with the dishes Lex has handed to him, he turns his attention to the dish rack while the other boy frowns down at the crusty pot. He’s reaching for a glass when he notices something on the counter that makes him pause curiously.

“Is that—“ He doesn’t finish the sentence, cheeks rapidly filling with color.

Lex makes a pained noise, somewhere between a growl and a whimper, and crumples forward until his forehead is resting on the rim of the sink.

“Do you think death by dirty dishwater would make the Darwin Awards?” He mumbles.

Roger opens his mouth, but no sound comes out for a moment.

“Where—“ His voice cracks and he swallows thickly.

“Guess.” Lex says dryly to the floor, head still down. “My brother, Patron Saint of gay boys everywhere.”

It takes Roger a moment to recover and then he can respond without getting a nosebleed.

“Well, at least we know he doesn’t have a problem with us dating?” He offers cautiously, eyeing Lex’s reaction.

The other boy just starts silently shaking. It’s a little frightening until Roger realizes he’s laughing. Kind of hysterically, but who can blame him when his older brother just gave him condoms and… flavored lube?

He buries his head in the damp dishtowel. He cannot look at Lex. Can. Not. Oh god. He used to like cherry flavored things, but now every time he sees it…

“Right,” Lex says valiantly, pushing away from the counter and trying to regroup. Roger sneaks a glance at his face. He can’t look him in the eye just yet.

“I think the dishes are done,” the goth says with an air of finality, yanking off the water and staring at the soaking pot. Roger absently offers him the towel to dry his hands.

There’s an awkward moment of silence.

“What would—“ Roger pauses to clear his throat. “What would you like to do now? I don’t need to be home until ten.”

“Well, we could watch a movie, or we could brainstorm for Friday?”

Lex says it to the counter, and Roger has to smile. “Why not both? I’m sure you have some cheesy horror flick we won’t mind talking over.”

“Yeah.” Lex finally looks over at him. “The cool ones are up in my room, since Rams has a tendency to run off with them to his room and I never get to watch them again.”

Roger’s willing to babble, if it keeps them from discussing what’s on the counter. “That makes me glad to be an only child. No one touches my stuff. I mean, I would’ve loved to have a little brother or sister to teach things and look out for and everything, but I don’t have to put up with the bratty moments, either…”

“Believe me, even older brothers have their bratty moments,” Lex mutters.

They both stare at the box of condoms and little bottle of slick. Lex makes an aborted attempt to reach for them, hand lifting only to fall back to his side. Roger shifts from one foot to the other.

“You can’t—just—leave it there…” He says stiltedly. Lex nods.

“I’m going to kill him.”

“Dude, not after all the work we went through to keep him alive.”

“Point taken.”

With a fortifying breath, Lex swipes the incriminating evidence from the counter and marches resolutely up the stairs. Roger takes a deep breath and follows, telling his brain to _stop going there_ with every step Lex takes. He could follow Lex up a flight of stairs forever and be happy, he thinks.

Lex flicks on the light to his bedroom, and Roger’s half-hard and resolutely ignoring the rumpled bed. The dirty clothes pile has disappeared since the last time he was up here, and thinking of the last time doesn’t help his erection. He’s beginning to think he’s already developed a Pavlovian response—See Lex, see Lex in bedroom, have sex thoughts. When Lex tosses the condoms and lube on the bed, Roger quickly turns to the bookshelves behind him.

It’s the one filled with RPG manuals, and he hasn’t even looked through half of them, which he probably should. He assumes that everyone else has, since they seem to know all about weapons and monsters and whatnot. There’s a row of spiral bound notebooks on the shelf, too, and he absently pulls one out, glancing quickly over his shoulder.

Lex is rummaging quietly through the shelves on the other side of the bed, flipping through a stack of DVDs and frowning.

Roger opens the notebook, and it’s an actual sketchbook this time. The first heavy page is covered in an ink drawing of a dragon, as are the next few, each at a different angle. Then there’s one of a mildewy dungeon, and an inn, and then a torture chamber that has some color added to it with pencils. A few magazine clippings of buildings are tucked in, and he guesses that Lex uses them for inspiration.

The next page seems innocent at first, a grassy knoll with a tombstone and a tree on it, but then it hits him like the first time he saw his own profile. He doesn’t recognize the given names listed, but the last name is the same as Lex’s. The sketch has obviously had some time devoted to it, too. In small block letters at the bottom, there’s the quote, “Real love is forever…”

“Hey, have you ever seen An American Werewolf In Paris?” Lex asks without turning around. Roger tries not to jump and looks guilty anyway. “I think that’s sufficiently cheesy.”

“I saw it in the theater, actually. That’s with that guy, right?”

“The one from that Dead Man movie that had no, like, dead people in it? Yeah.” Lex opens the DVD case to look at the insert. “He’s not as hot in this one, but I do have a thing for nerdy-types.”

Roger arches an eyebrow at that, pretending to look offended. He is no nerd, despite his present Friday night activities. That’s more geeky.

Lex gives him a smirk without totally turning his head and drawls, “Well, maybe I can find something cheesier. There’s this one director…”

As Lex resumes poking around, Roger returns his attention to the sketchbook, turning the page carefully so he won’t tear the binding. A glossy picture falls out, but he catches it before anything’s damaged. It’s obviously a home picture and he flips it over. It’s of the same gravestone, on a sunny day surrounded by other plots.

He thinks of his own parents. How he’s hidden his costume from his mom until he can think of a reasonable excuse besides, “I break into the school every week to play make-believe.” How his accountant dad doesn’t really understand how his son turned out to be so into sports, and Roger thinks that him and Lex would get along. If he can ever get up the guts to tell his parents that their only son has a boyfriend and is pretty sure he’s totally gay. At the moment, he’s kind of Lex-centric.

Lex would never have to tell his parents about them, though. The other boy would just have to wonder. At least he has Ramsey, who seems cool. Roger hasn’t asked any of the other players about how Lex’s parents died, but he knows it happened during their freshman year. That’s when all the black started creeping into the other boy’s wardrobe, too.

Tucking the picture back into the book, he quietly returns to the first few pages. Some things are too personal to bring up casually, not after his brother just embarrassed the hell out of him. But he has to say something about the sketches; they’re too good not to.

“You never mentioned that you draw,” he tries, turning to Lex. The goth looks up in surprise, then quickly back down to the movies in his hand.

“It passes time in class.”

“These are really good.”

“Thanks.”

There’s an awkward silence as Roger places the sketchbook back on the shelf, but he’s glad he mentioned it. Lex should be proud of his skills.

Randomly grabbing a few manuals, he turns to Lex. “Decided yet?”

The goth blinks, eyes focusing on the DVD in his hand. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

They head back downstairs, and Roger doesn’t torment himself by looking at the bed again. The sketchbook managed to distract him, but he doesn’t know how he’s going to get through an entire movie with Lex sitting next to him.

Not that he thinks Lex is up for fooling around. He knows the other boy well enough now to expect a certain degree of distance after Ramsey’s oh so subtle encouragement. He’s just happy Lex didn’t kick him out to avoid all of it.

Instead, he slouches onto the couch, cracking open a manual without really seeing it. He suppresses a smug grin when Lex puts the DVD in and flops down, sprawling until their arms and thighs touch. He leans into the warmth.

“So,” he says as the opening credits start. “I bet Stan would be pissed if we tossed a Balrog at him…”

“Hmm.” Lex closes his eyes, an evil smile creeping across his face. “I could have fun coming up with stats for that…”

They look at each other and grin. They can talk about what it is they’re doing later. For now, Roger’s just going to enjoy himself.

~~~

His dad is snoring loudly in front of the TV. The evening news proclaims doom and gloom in the background as Roger quietly creeps past him. Pausing in the foyer to get his jacket from the closet, he carefully sets his backpack on the floor while he pulls the coat on. There’s only a single binder in his bag, but he doesn’t want to risk making unnecessary noise since he’s almost out the door and hasn’t really thought of a good excuse yet.

They’ve been keeping his costume at Lex’s, just to make life easier all around, but he figures he can claim homework if he has his bag on him. He could always say that he’s meeting up with some guys from the team, but his parents can easily check that and he doesn’t want to lie outright.

He’s terrible at it, anyway.

“Roger?” His mother calls from her home office. 

He freezes, palms sweaty, and hopes he looks innocent.

“Yeah, mom?” He says quietly, mindful of his father’s even snoring.

She appears in the study doorway, an eyebrow raised curiously. She’s barefoot but still in the blouse and skirt she wore to work, which means she’s reviewing case files before dinner.

“You’re going out?”

“Yeah,” he says with a shrug and a bright grin.

“Weren’t you just out on Tuesday?” 

He can’t tell if her tone is merely questioning or if she’s about to tell him they have family plans tonight. They usually don’t on Fridays, but he never knows when his parents will decide to go to the movies or out to eat. If they do, that means he’ll have to come up with a stronger excuse to beg off than hanging with friends.

“Yeah,” he finally settles on saying again, still grinning.

He realizes the error of his monosyllabic ways when she smiles wryly at him and lounges against the door frame, settling in for an inquisition.

“You’ve been gone a lot lately. Where’re you headed?” It seems like a casual question, posited as she idly fingers the pearls his dad gave her for Christmas. He swallows and feels like scum.

“Just over to a friend’s house.” He keeps smiling broadly as he frantically searches for enough information to appease her without lying or bringing Lex into it. “There’s a Calculus test on Monday, so we figured we’d study together.”

“On a Friday night.” She says with a smirk.

“Yup.” Roger hefts his book bag onto his shoulder, coughing and sniffling a little in the hopes of distracting her with the possibility of an oncoming cold. It doesn’t work. Obviously Lex’s subversive ways haven’t rubbed off on him completely yet, because she smiles knowingly again.

“And this ‘friend’ wouldn’t just happen to be the same person you’ve been ‘studying’ with every Friday night for the past five weeks too, hm?”

He can feel the heat burning in his cheeks and tries not to feel guiltier.

“Aw, mom. It’s not like that. Honest.”

Technically, that’s not an actual lie, considering he and Lex don’t usually “study” together, per se. And that thought makes him blush harder, because his mom has no clue what he’s been getting up to on the weekends and normally he’d tell her just about everything. Well, at least where he’s going and who he’s hanging out with and what he’s doing, which he hasn’t been completely honest about for a while.

“Have I met this friend?” She asks teasingly, and this is the tricky part.

“Nah.” His stomach lurches. “He’s just a guy I know from math class. Really. And I’m gonna be late, so–“

“All right.” She laughs, obviously not believing him but willing to let it drop. “Just be home by curfew and be sure to have your cell phone on.”

“Got it.” 

He’s out the door before she can say anything else. His heart’s thudding and he doesn’t know what he feels worse about– the fact that his mom thinks he’s hiding some girl or the fact that Lex is obviously so much more to him than ‘some guy.’

He lied to his mom. Mislead her. And he doesn’t know how to feel about that because he’s never had anything to hide before.

He keeps replaying the conversation over in his head on the drive to Lex’s. It’s not really guilt, he tells himself, just . . . He feels like he should have told her. Because this is the kind of stuff you share with your family, right? Otherwise it turns into a Lifetime movie somewhere down the road, even though his parents would probably be cool with everything. He hopes.

But he’s enjoying the freedom he and Lex have right now. If he told his parents and they were cool with it, then they’d want to meet Lex and get to know him, which would freak Lex out to no end. And they probably wouldn’t be as cool about Roger hanging out with Lex unchaperoned. At least, they’ve been kind of wary about it with his girlfriends in the past, but they never really had anything to worry about then so Roger hadn’t minded. But with Lex . . . Well, apparently Roger had just needed to find the right person to start acting like the average hormonal teenage boy.

There’s no one in the car with him and his face is still bright red.

Only, he knows his mom will figure things out soon enough. He could probably try to mislead her some more, mention a few girls casually or something, but he and Lex aren’t exactly denying anything at school. No one’s said anything to them yet, but it’s a fairly small place and Roger’s a pretty popular guy, so that doesn’t mean it won’t get back to someone’s parents. His mom is friends with a lot of the parents from the team, and she’s not stupid. Even the hint that Roger might be interested in someone and she’ll put things together.

So he should just come clean. He really isn’t built for this sort of subterfuge and he hasn’t even done anything truly wrong.

Maybe he should invite Lex over for dinner.

He has to laugh out loud at that image and shake his head. The other drivers on the road probably think he’s nuts, but the thought of Lex in full goth gear sitting at the same table as his mom in her pearls and his dad with his dorky t-shirts and thick glasses . . . Well, it certainly couldn’t be more traumatic than Ramsey leaving condoms and personal lubricant lying around.

Lex would never go for it anyway. And if Roger admits to his parents that he’s hanging out with Lex, it might lead to the role-playing games, and he’s pretty sure his mom would be cooler about him having a boyfriend than that whole thing.

He turns into Lex’s driveway, still feeling unsettled. Lex’s car is at the mechanic’s, hence Roger giving him a lift, and Roger parks the truck in the space usually occupied by Lex’s compact. Hurrying to the front door, he shakes the snow flurries from his hair and face before ringing the doorbell. Ramsey has said he can just walk in, but he still feels rude doing it.

“Get the door, Lex!”

Ramsey’s muffled voice, probably from somewhere downstairs. Roger doesn’t hear Lex reply, but Ramsey yells again.

“You get it, you lazy bitch! I’m busy!” Another pause. “It’s your boyfriend!”

Shifting from foot to foot, Roger tries the door handle and finds it locked for once. With a sigh, he resigns himself to waiting for the two siblings to fight it out.

“Fine!” Yelled from much closer than before. The door’s yanked open by a harried-looking Ramsey. The blonde has on leather pants and a silk shirt, hair sticking up in a halo around his head.

“Hey, Roger, c’mon in,” he says with a smile, already walking away to the downstairs bathroom. “I hate to be rude, but I’m running late for a date, and Maria’s threatened to skin me alive…”

“It’s cool.” Roger grins as he follows. “You look good.”

“Thanks.” Ramsey produces a bottle of hair gel and starts spiking his frizz in the hallway mirror. “The brat’s holed up in his room, practicing his power brooding.”

Before Roger can respond, Lex yells, “Fuck you, asshole!”

The jock just looks awkwardly between Ramsey and the stairs. Lowering his voice, Ramsey catches Roger’s eye in the mirror and lifts a shoulder elegantly.

“He always gets pissy, this time of year.” He says quietly. “Unfortunately, I have no patience with self-pity and he’s not pulling his head out of his ass. So. You have my condolences.”

Roger nods, not knowing what to say, and heads up the stairs. “Have fun on your date.”

Ramsey’s good cheer returns. “Oh, I will. You boys have the house all to yourselves until tomorrow morning.” He raises his voice so Lex can hear. “Don’t burn down the house!”

Roger’s cheeks are still red when he reaches Lex’s room and he has a feeling that it’s going to be his permanent state of being for quite some time. Pushing the door open with a light knock, he’s surprised to find the curtains drawn and all the candles lit. One of them must be scented, because the room smells like sandalwood.

Lex is sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, shoulders hunched as he carefully applies nail polish to his right index finger. RPG notebooks, his sketch pad, and various writing implements are scattered over the rest of the comforter. The goth doesn’t acknowledge him right away, and Roger takes the time to shrug out of his letter jacket, draping it over the computer chair at Lex’s desk. He’s wearing a tight white t-shirt tonight, one that he knows Lex likes, but the goth doesn’t even look up.

“Hey.” Roger says stiltedly. 

Lex glances at him, raising an eyebrow, and very obviously returns to what he’s doing. It leaves Roger feeling at a loss. Like, Lex is pissed at him or something, and he doesn’t know what he’s done. Before they started this thing between them, he would’ve just ignored Lex’s bad mood and started talking, but now he feels like he has to do something. Say something to fix it. Which is just wrong, because it’s not up to him to “fix” anything for Lex.

So. Aimless chatter it is.

“I guess I’m a little early...?” He offers after another moment of silence. Wandering over to the bed, he absently picks up a colored pencil and hopes for a reaction.

“Whatever,” Lex says finally, still focused on his task.

“It’s really snowing hard out there.” Can he _get_ any lamer, talking about the weather? But the more Lex frowns at his nails, the more Roger wants to speak. The jock starts tapping the colored pencil against his thigh. “Weatherman predicts this’ll be the last big snow of the season. Might even get Monday off if the roads stay icy...”

Apparently, that’s the wrong thing to say, because Lex just grinds his teeth and growls, “Fuck the weatherman.”

Lex hasn’t looked at him again, but Roger’s beginning to get the feeling that this isn’t about them, otherwise the attacks would be more personal. He’d never really known what helplessness felt like before he started seeing the goth, and now he can’t think of any way to find out what’s wrong without Lex stabbing him in the eye with the polish brush. Before he can think of a non-threatening question, though, he glances at Lex’s progress and…

The glossy black polish spreads easily over the pale flesh tone of Lex’s nails. Each brush stroke is precise and even, wet polish gleaming in the candlelight. Lex keeps his nails short, but the color makes his fingers look longer.

The colored pencil is still tapping a staccato rhythm against his thigh and he can’t look away.

Sighing in frustration, Lex pauses and motions to the bed beside him. “Quit hovering. I’d clear a spot, but I’m afraid I’m indisposed at the moment.”

Silently, Roger complies. He sits down gently on the bed, legs hanging over the edge as the mattress dips, and keeps watching. The only sounds are the crackle of a candle wick and Lex’s even breaths.

He doesn’t get his sudden fascination with Lex’s fingers. He’s been looking at them for more than five weeks and he’s never wanted to lick them before. They’re long with knobby knuckles, twin scars running across the back of the last two fingers on his right hand. Thick scars Roger’s never paid much attention to, but they stand out starkly pale next to the harsh black polish. 

He contemplates his own stubby nails momentarily, the skin dry and rough around them. He has his own scars from football, and three knuckles on his left hand are bigger than the others from when he jammed them in practice. Such a contrast to Lex’s soft-looking fingers. The other boy has artist’s hands, as his dad would say.

He reaches for the hand with the polish brush without really thinking about it, fingers circling the thin wrist of Lex’s left arm, pulling the brush away from his nails. It makes the goth pause and look up at him, a frown of annoyance on his face.

“What?” Lex demands.

Roger doesn’t answer outright, just holds the left arm away as he captures Lex’s right hand around the palm. Lex stops breathing as Roger raises their hands close to his face. The jock just examines the thick scars closely, breathing steadily. Tentatively, purposefully not looking at Lex’s face, he lowers his head and runs his tongue over the ridges.

Lex jerks his hand away, breath coming quick and shallow. “What...?”

His tone is confused but bordering on angry. Roger lets his captive left hand go when Lex starts tugging, and the goth replaces the nail polish brush in the small bottle.

“I like your hands,” Roger says quietly. It makes Lex glance quickly at him with a snort.

“They’re just hands.”

“They’re...”

“They’re fucked up.” Lex shifts back on the bed, careful of the wet polish, and kicks absently at a sketch pad. “What’s with you tonight?”

Roger shrugs, uncomfortable, and leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He’s used to being confused around Lex and having the other boy make him feel foolish, but tonight he doesn’t want to push back like he usually would. Something’s just– off.

He takes a breath to sigh and ends up choking on the candle scent. “Maybe we should open a window...”

“It’s snowing out.” Lex says flatly.

“Yeah, but we’ll die in here.” It’s meant to be a joke, but Lex is grinding his teeth again.

“I like it in here, okay?” He snarls, and Roger holds up his hands in surrender.

“All right. Chill.”

The anniversary clock down in the living room chimes and Roger glances at his watch. Almost seven. Lex has opened the nail polish bottle again and is finishing his right hand.

“We should probably head out soon,” Roger says when Lex is nearly done.

“Whatever.”

“Did Mike do the set-up again? He left a plastic axe in the locker room storage closet, and I had to suggest to coach that it was from the theater department.”

Lex just rolls his eyes. “Mike was probably too busy messing around with Tony to put everything where it belongs. So the game’ll probably be fucked up.”

“I thought Tony was still grounded.”

“Whatever. Things’ll be in the wrong places and I’ll have to come up with new shit...” Lex stops painting and stares blankly at his fingernails. “Fuck, I don’t even really wanna go tonight.”

And now Roger’s worried. Because Lex doesn’t miss RP nights. Ever. Stan said that he DM’ed with bronchitis last year.

But Lex is in motion now, capping the polish bottle and putting it on the nightstand. It looks like he’s going to get off the bed, so Roger grabs his arm.

“Hey,” he says when Lex freezes to glare at him. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

“No really, man. What’s up?”

“Nothing.” When Lex pulls away, Roger lets him go. The goth extinguishes the nearest candles, fiddling with the melted wax. Roger bides his time.

“I don’t like the snow.” Lex finally says. “It’s too damn cold, and I hate driving in it, and it fucking sucks.”

There’s more to it than that, but Roger just nods. “Yeah.”

“It’s just, I– ” Lex quickly pulls his hand away from the candle. “Fuck.”

Roger pushes off of the bed and takes Lex’s hand, inspecting the angry red skin on his index finger. “You should run it under cold water.”

“I’m fine.” Lex tries to pull his hand back, but Roger holds on.

“Yeah, I know. You’re always fine.” It slips out a little snider than Roger intended, and Lex frowns at him.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Nothing.” He lets their hands drop. “Just, sometimes it’s... Sometimes, you don’t always have to be okay.”

Lex snorts. “Yeah, I do.”

They stand silently for a long moment, Roger studying Lex, who’s contemplating the floor. This has to be the most awkward night Roger has ever had.

But then Lex reaches up, curling his freshly painted nails into Roger’s shirt and dragging him forward. Roger is startled but relaxes into the grip and goes with it. Solemnly, Lex searches his face for something that Roger doesn’t even know if he has to give. But something must be there, because Lex leans in and kisses him softly on the lips, then with more determination. Riveting skin, chapped and dry, but soon slick with spit as Roger opens his mouth, slides his tongue across the other boy’s lips.

He loses himself in the rhythm of their mouths and their tongues, the humid warmth of Lex’s palm on his chest. The wanting beneath his ribs is a physical ache, and he’s been thinking of this every night, every morning. Drawing Lex towards the bed with him, he forgets about any stilted conversations or inept half-truths, thinking only of the first time they ended up here and the gasps Lex made and the fact that he came in his pants because of Roger.

And the awkwardness is receding. Roger knows Lex, knows the taste of his sweat and the feel of his skin. Only him. He fumbles for Lex’s belt, getting it undone so he can yank open the button fly. Lex groans into his mouth, trying to press closer, and Roger falls back onto the bed. Right onto Lex’s art supplies.

“Ow.”

Lex laughs, smirking with an edge to it, and frantically joins Roger in throwing all the pencils and notebooks to the floor. His hair is in all directions, his pale cheeks are flushed, and Roger lays back to gaze at him. Crawling up over Roger, Lex sits on the jock’s leg with his knees on either side. Deftly, he unbuttons and unzips Roger’s jeans, heel pressing against the hard flesh underneath.

“Can I–?” Lex blushes, looking unsure and embarrassed. 

Roger probably isn’t any better off.

“Anything,” he gasps, willing to let Lex lead because Roger has no clue what they’re doing.

And he tries not to come in Lex’s eye when the other boy leans over and uses one hand to free Roger’s hard-on from his boxer briefs. The first swipe of his tongue makes Roger’s thigh muscles shake, and the jock tries not to thrust up, but he can’t control it because Lex’s moist, hot mouth feels so good wrapped around him and he moans incoherently, eyes watering, gasping for air, and Lex flattens his tongue along the underside of his cock, rasping along his length, and–

His hearing goes, his eye are scrunched shut, and when he can think again, he realizes this is the second time he’s had sex and he still has all his clothes on. Lex drapes himself across Roger’s thigh, comfortably boneless, and Roger manages enough energy to wave his hand.

“Should I–“

Lex’s flush deepens and he buries his face in the denim of Roger’s pant leg. “Already taken care of.”

“Oh.”

That’s– really hot. A little disappointing, because he wants to find out what Lex tastes like, and Roger’s cock gives a mournful twitch at the thought. But he knows he has time.

And as Lex sits up, grimacing at the dampness visible in his pants, Roger has to smile. The melancholy attitude seems to have been forgotten for the moment, and Lex gives him an evil grin.

“If we shower together, it’ll save time, and we might still get there before everyone else...”

Roger nods, and strips off his ruined t-shirt. Lex will have to repaint his nails, but that’s okay. It’ll give him something to do tonight until Roger joins him in the library.

~~~

He’s trying to follow what Megan’s saying. He really is. But it’s so difficult when Lex is sitting across from them, casually rolling an uneaten apple between his hands as he talks to Stan. And the rhythmic noise of the fruit on the tabletop would be annoying if it wasn’t for the fact that Lex’s nail polish isn’t chipped anymore.

Roger can’t look away and he knows Megan knows and is trying to be cool about it, but. There was the last time Lex painted his fingernails black, stretched out across his bed with the smell of the polish, and then the smudging and the streaks across Roger’s white t-shirt and then the taste of his musk on Lex’s fingertips… Stubby little black nails scratching at him, so dark on his pale skin, and how could he be expected to ignore them after that?

Yeah. Now the goth has banned him from the room when he’s applying a new coat. It’s just-- So totally not fair.

When Lex brings the apple up to his mouth, Roger forces himself to look away. Because he’s not about to embarrass himself in the middle of the school cafeteria. Instead, he glances at Megan’s earnest face and tries to remember what she just said.

“What was that--?” He finally asks and hopes his grin is sheepish enough to appease her. 

The sadness in her eyes hurts him more than her pursed lips, but he couldn’t stop the awareness even if he wanted to. It won’t go away, and every time he touches Lex, it gets imbedded deeper in his brain.

“It’s okay. It was a silly idea anyway…”

And that gets his attention, because she sounds upset. “No wait, really. I’m listening. Sorry.”

Her smile is a little forced, but she shrugs and lowers her voice. “I said, I was just wondering what everyone's planning on doing for the Winter Formal. Because Victoria said you weren't interested in going to any dances, but I was hoping _someone_ I knew would be there…”

“Ah,” he tries to stall for time. He doesn’t know how to respond, and he knows Lex and Stan aren’t really trying to have a conversation anymore. “I-- Ah. I haven't really thought about it. I probably won't go, though.”

“Oh,” she frowns, looking disappointed. “It’s like no one wants to…”

She returns to picking at her half-eaten sandwich, elbowing Kip’s arm to get it off of her books. A quick glance across the table confirms that Stan is staring despondently at the carton of milk in front of Megan, and Lex is savagely mutilating his apple while glaring at the girl. Kip just seems to be in his own little world.

Roger studies his empty tray for a minute, trying to think of a solution that would please everyone. He knows that Mike and Tony intend to get plastered, and Victoria is still looking for a date. Lex doesn’t want to go, big surprise. Stan hasn’t asked anyone, but Roger has the feeling that it’s just from lack of confidence.

A vague concept begins to take shape. Lex will absolutely hate it, but it would solve everyone else’s problems…

He tells himself that it's for Stan and Megan's sakes when he offers, not the fact that it'll drive his sorta-boyfriend nuts.

“I have an idea,” he announces and waits for everyone present to look at him. “Why don’t we just do a group thing? Like, carpool and go out to dinner and stuff? All of us?”

Pushing her tray away, Megan brightens visibly. “Sure, that works for me.”

“Me too,” Stan agrees quick enough, eyes darting to Megan’s soft smile. Roger grins.

“Cool. Kip?”

“Huh?” The surfer blinks at them.

“Just say yes,” Stan prompts with a kick under the table.

“Sure, man. Whatever.”

A snort escapes Lex, right on cue. Roger arches an eyebrow at him and waits for the scathing retort. Catching the expectant look, Lex frowns and leans back from the table, crossing his arms over his chest. He stares at Roger for a moment with narrowed eyes and pauses deliberately before he speaks.

“Only if I get to wear a zoot suit.”

And that’s… surprising, but Lex probably meant for it to be. Roger would make a drama queen comment, but he’s afraid Lex will change his mind. Instead, he rolls his eyes, resisting the urge to reach across the table and smack him. But at least Lex agreed. A sudden thought occurs to him, though, and he freezes in mid-turn to peer at the goth suspiciously.

“No weird shit, right?” He frowns when Lex smirks. “I mean it. No ancient texts or medieval weaponry or obscene announcements over the PA.”

“Who me?” Lex tries to look innocent. Operative word being tries.

“Yeah, you. I know you’ve watched Carrie a million times. Don't even think about trying anything, man. I’ll kick your ass.”

Lex looks unimpressed. "You could make the attempt, I'm sure, jock boy. But your chances of success are dependent upon you being able to catch me."

"Yeah, well, brains don't matter much when my brawn's got you in a headlock."

"And an ephemeral moment of violence won't save your car tires after I recover."

"That's low."

"That's being Italian."

For a moment, he’s forgotten there are other people at the table, and he keeps leaning forward. But while he’s busy staring Lex down, Stan clears his throat and the tension is broken. He can feel his cheeks flushing, and Lex bites into his apple smugly. Hopefully no one else realizes what he was tempted to do.

“So I guess I should give you a ride, Megan,” Stan offers, swallowing thickly. “Since we live closest to each other, I mean. It would just make more sense.”

“Thanks, Stan. I would appreciate that.” Her smile reaches her eyes this time. She stands, gathering her books. When she looks at Roger, eyes skating over to Lex and back, she seems more relaxed. “I’ll talk to Victoria now, since we have next period together. We can figure things out tonight before the game.”

“Great.”

The four boys watch her leave and heave a collective sigh.

“Where are you going to get a zoot suit, genius?” Roger throws his used napkin across the table. Lex swats it into Stan’s lap.

“From the costume shop, of course. Where else?” The goth gives him an “Isn’t it obvious?” look.

Stan doesn’t notice them. “What do you think her favorite flower is? She’s never mentioned one around me…”

Kip waves the flower question off and frowns. “More importantly, does this mean I have to, like, wear a tux? Cause, dude, it's just wrong not to warn a dude. And you kicked me!”

“I don't know what you're talking about." Stan says haughtily, then slumps over his tray. "Is it presumptuous to bring her a corsage? I mean, it’s not like it’s a date, or anything…”

Roger shakes his head at Lex. “Only you would show up at a formal dance looking like a pimp.”

~~~

Kip lets himself into the school less than an hour before they're supposed to meet. Normally, Lex freaks when one of them shows up early, but Kip doesn't care. He has a bone to pick with their fearless leader.

Roger may not mind getting hacked to pieces by orcs, because hello, anyone can see why (the massive hickey on Lex's neck is a good clue). And Victoria gets pissed when she's mauled by trolls, but then she gets to torment everyone else, especially Lex, and that usually appeases her for a while. And Lex keeps having Megan and Stan fight each other, and Mike and Tony play the MPCs, and yeah.

What does Kip get to do lately? Tag along behind Stan. Like, that's it. And he wants to see more action, dammit. His character is falling behind in levels and it's getting annoying.

He stows his costume bag in the boys' locker room before heading to the library. He always feels at a disadvantage trying to talk to Lex in his costume, even if the other boy has a tendency to stare at Kip's chest.

It's just, he gets kinda tired of Tyrannical Lex. Problem is, the rest of them really can't pull a game together to save their lives. Stan's talked about maybe trying, but no one wants to suggest it to the RP Dictator, so they end up doing whatever Lex can think up--

Kip pauses at the corner of the library's second-level windows. There's light flickering on the ceiling, complete with odd shadows. He stares in the nearest window before he realizes that it's a flashlight being jostled that's making the weird shapes. He raises a hand to his eyebrows just to double check, though. Lex better not be messing with any more new 'manuals.'

He relaxes once he recognizes Lex's back leaning against the counter. The dark-haired boy is facing away from him, so Kip doesn't realize he's there until he sees the pale strip of skin above the waist of Lex's black jeans. Pale skin exposed because there's a hand pushing the edge of Lex's shirt up, and that's funny, Kip doesn't see anyone in there with Lex, but the angle of the hand is--

Holy shit.

Kip blinks, freezing. And tries breathing through his nose, because. Dude, it's one thing to know the guy you've been lightly crushing on for years has a boyfriend, but this.

A gurgle escapes his lips, but Kip can't look away.

The long fingers splayed across Lex's lower back, digging in, pushing at Lex's shirt and tugging on his belt, and the way Lex's hips are rocking forward rhythmically. Lex's hands gripping the edge of the library counter, his head tilted back, body arching over the edge. It looks painful and really fucking hot and Kip inhales sharply when Lex makes a visible effort to move his hand from the counter to the front of his body.

Kip can't see from this angle, but he can guess who's there and what's going on, and he's pissed that he's not wearing his loincloth because that has the easiest access. As it is, he unconsciously cups the front of his pants and squeezes, trying to focus on his breathing. He wants to be able to hear the noises coming from the library, if there are any, even though he doubts he'll be able to. And there's just the faint squeak of the wooden counter over the hum of the heating vents.

He wishes he had come from the other direction, just so he can get a glimpse of Lex's face. He's imagined what the goth would look like, cheeks flushed and eyes closed, but it was always Kip going down on him in the fantasies.

Not that he doesn't want to see Roger and Lex going at it. Roger's hot in that All American football player way, and Kip isn't Megan. He hasn't been mooning over Lex or doodling their names on his notebooks or any of that shit. He _has_ thought about Lex in the shower, quite often in fact, but hey-- He's a healthy teenage guy with an active libido. It just sucks that Lex isn't into surfers. But them's the breaks, man.

In fact, Kip doesn't mind so much if it means he gets to witness this, because damn. He can almost see Lex's mouth, just the hint that it's hanging open, and he can imagine the pants escaping it. From the way Roger's hand keeps flexing on Lex's ass, the jock must really be into it. Kip would kill to know what Roger's other hand is doing, especially when Lex spasms, curling over like he's in pain only to straighten again, bracing himself on the counter as the pace of his hips picks up. It's tempting to just sneak forward, maybe enough to get a profile view without worrying about Lex spotting him...

"Hey, Kip."

The surfer jumps and shoves his hands in his pockets guiltily. His heart's threatening to climb out of his chest, and he turns to Stan with a forced casualness.

"Hey, man. What're you doin' here so early?"

He hopes Stan can't see his blush. He really does, because maybe he can stall the other boy long enough for Roger and Lex to finish, and that way they'll all avoid some embarrassing questions.

"I wanted to run something by Lex," Stan's saying with a smile. It fades to a look of confusion when Kip grins nervously back. "Is he around yet? I thought he'd be here by now since Roger said he was giving him a ride."

Stan's voice trails off when he looks over Kip's shoulder into the library. The expression that crosses his face is priceless, but Kip is too busy trying to think of something to say to really appreciate it.

"Uh, maybe now's not a good time," Kip finally mutters with a shrug. Stan nods and clears his throat.

"Yeah," he says faintly, then repeats himself. "Yeah."

"We should go get changed, dude," Kip blurts out, then mentally cringes when he realizes how it sounded. Stan's still nodding though, and looking a little flustered.

"Yeah. Good idea."

Kip glances over his shoulder as they walk back towards the gym, but Lex is still facing away from them and Roger has both his hands shoved down the back of Lex's pants. He really wants to stay and watch, but Stan might pass out and then Kip would be the only one conscious to explain it to Lex, and yeah. Demons have got nothing on that boy in a snit. Only Victoria scares Kip more than Lex, even if she is kinda mellowing the more she hangs out with Megan. But that just means she's a First Rate Bitch instead of The Mega Bitch. In Kip's opinion, both her and Lex need a bottle of Midol each.

And if Lex and Roger have taken up having sex in public places, it might explain Megan's teary eyes the game before last and Victoria's unusually vigorous Death Glares. Poor Roger. Lex can take care of himself, but Roger is an accident waiting to happen if Victoria's pissed at him.

Stan fumbles with the handle of the locker room door, and it could be the poor lighting, but Kip doesn't get why the other boy is still freaking. Stan's practically been shoving Roger in Lex's lap the past few weeks, so what did he expect? And everyone has to admit that those two are fucking hot together. Just the thought of them makes Kip's dick twitch again. Stan should be happy his match-making granny routine worked.

Unless there's something Stan isn't telling him, and wouldn't that just be interesting? Although it seems like Stan is crushing on Megan lately, and even Kip can see that's a train wreck waiting to happen. Looks like it'll be up to Kip to save Stan from himself. It's his duty as Stan's best friend, of course. Besides, the way the dude's going, he'll never get laid until after college. If then.

Kip smirks, wetting his lips and following the other boy into the locker room. Maybe it's not too cold to go commando under his costume...

~~~

Lex was ensconced in the library again, and Roger made his way there after he was conveniently killed off by Kip. He pretended not to notice the surfer’s sly wink as he left the gym.

“And next we have Mike fighting Stan in the shop class, hereby known as Deadman’s Swamp, while Tony heads to the Grand Courtyard to avenge his fallen comrade by kicking Kip’s ass.”

Roger had to smile to himself at the sound of Lex in Dungeon Master Mode. It was kind of cute, the way the stoic and reserved goth would get all dominating when he was behind the mic. Not that Roger would ever call Lex cute. Out loud.

Pushing through the library doors, he checked his watch, and hoped the other guys went along with the plan. 

They only had another hour until Megan’s party, so everyone needed to be dead before then. It was also the only way they’d get Lex out of the building, and Victoria had explained in very specific terms what would happen to Roger if Lex failed to show up. Since Roger didn’t want to disappoint Megan (or piss off Victoria, for that matter), he was prepared to argue, cajole, and bribe Lex to get his way.

His target was leaning over the war plans spread across the library table, and Roger winced at the weak light Lex was trying to read by. Squaring his shoulders, he put on a big grin and sauntered over to hop up on the counter.

“Hey.” He bumped Lex’s shoulder.

“Hn.”

Still grinning, Roger tried to get a look at the notebook pages before Lex moved them out of his view.

“Big plans?”

Snorting, Lex glared at him. “They were. But I’m missing a few players...”

“So Megan and Victoria didn’t come tonight?” Roger asked casually, picking up a letter-opener that looked like a dagger. He twirled it absently as Lex proceeded to ignore him.

Pursing his lips, Roger squinted at the tip of the pseudo-dagger. At least he had the most obvious weapon in the room, discounting the mechanical pencil in Lex’s hand.

“Yeah, I didn’t think they would,” he said as the grudging silence dragged onward. “Megan’s been really excited all this week. She was afraid no one would come, but I’ve heard plenty of people talking about it in the halls.”

“And I wonder why that is?” Lex muttered sarcastically.

Roger frowned. “Hey, I helped spread the word, that’s all. Megan has a lot of friends; people who appreciate her for her kind and accommodating personality. She’s just a little shy about asking people for things.”

“Oh, is that why Victoria’s been threatening people if they didn’t say they’d show up?”

Chuckling, Roger set the letter opener down. “So maybe some invitations were more enthusiastically given than others. She didn’t... _talk_ to you... did she?”

At Lex’s expression, Roger was hard put to keep the grin on his face. “Yes, well. All that aside, the party starts in–“

“No.” Returning his attention to his notebook, Lex didn’t bother looking up.

Roger tried going for a compromise. “Just for an hour?”

Pausing in the middle of tracking Stan and Kip’s progress, Lex sent his boyfriend a skeptical glance. “Right. Because once you get me there, you’ll be so willing to leave in a mere hour.”

Damn. Lex was on to him.

“Forty-five minutes. I promise?” Roger tried to look innocent.

“No.”

“But–“

“No.”

“She’d really like it if all of us–“

“Hell no.”

He played his trump card. “I’ll let you do anything you want to me.”

“...”

“Anywhere you want.”

“... Anything?”

“Yeah.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“... Fine. What time is it again?” Lex sighed.

Roger grinned.

~~~

“What’re you doing with that?” Tony hissed, pulling Mike to a halt. “Lex is gonna kill us if he sees it!”

Mike just smirked and tucked the flat bottle back in the waistband of his pants. “Relax. We’re not gonna drink it here. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.”

After a moment of disbelief at Mike’s sheer idiocy, Tony shook his head and resumed walking down the darkened corridor. The place still gave him the screamin’ wiggins, but it usually wasn’t so bad if he got to spend some extra time with Mike. If Mike didn’t get his ass kicked five ways to Sunday by an irate DM tonight.

“Please tell me you’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do.”

“Chill, I’ve got it covered.” Mike’s tone was smug. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry, he says.” Tony muttered. “You’ve got it covered? You’ve got a death wish, is more like it.”

He was afraid he knew what Mike intended, and the other boy would never admit to it, just to mess with him. But Tony was used to that, and had found that he was either a) better off not knowing until he was an accomplice after the fact, or b) would really like the results, anyway, so it didn’t matter if he knew ahead of time. As long as Victoria didn’t have access to any sharp objects, they’d be fine. So he shrugged and kept walking.

They turned a corner, blocking their view of the stairs, and he picked up his pace until they went around the next one. He slowed down when he saw the glow of the emergency exit sign. So maybe he was still a little nervous being in the school after hours. Given what had happened, he figured he had good reason. The thought of Lex lurking around somewhere watching them definitely gave him the creeps.

“Hey.” Mike stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “C’mere.”

“Wha–?” Tony dragged his feet as Mike pulled him towards a shadowy classroom. “We’re in the middle of the game!”

“So?” Mike gave the room a cursory once-over, then turned to push Tony up against the wall. Slick lips found the sweet spot behind Mike’s ear, and the shorter boy bit back a groan. “This is the first time we’ve really been alone all week. Relax.”

“N-no, Mike–“ He tried to duck out of Mike’s grip. “Not here, man, this is too weird...”

“What can I say,” Mike breathed in his ear. “I’ve been thinking about bending you over a desk all day...”

Breathing deep, Tony swallowed a whimper and stopped struggling. Mike couldn’t be serious. They hadn’t even *been* that far, yet. But the chance to mess around a little...

“What if Lex is watching?”

“Pssh. That’s all bullshit.”

“I know that, moron.”

Hands trembling, Tony fumbled with the buttons of Mike’s pants, but the taller man was too busy licking the inside of Tony’s mouth to be of much help.

They froze at Lex’s sharp voice over the PA.

“And if Tony would finish sucking face with Mike long enough to get to his battle with Stan, maybe we could get this party thing over and done with some time tonight.”

A giggle that was rapidly approaching hysterical escaped Tony. Mike sighed into the crook of his neck and removed his hands from Tony’s shirt.

“You know,” he muttered, “He wouldn’t be half so pissy if he would just let Roger blow him _before_ we started gaming...”

~~~

Stan hurried into the locker room to change. Since he was supposed to pick some friends up before the party, he had to leave a few minutes earlier than the rest of them. But at least Roger had gotten Lex to chill out about the game. For once. Obviously, it was the season of miracles.

He froze in the middle of taking off his turban. He hadn’t noticed that Kip was at the end of the locker row. The other boy was stripped down to his whitey-tighties and, had this happened two weeks ago, Stan wouldn’t have had any problem. But. Well, *things* had happened since then...

Suddenly, it was really freakin’ hot. Stan could feel the sweat breaking out across his forehead.

“Hey, man,” Kip turned to greet him with an easy smile. “Can I bum a ride?”

“Sure. I just have to pick up Mandy and Steve.” He willed his arms to start working again, but they were stubbornly unresponsive.

No teenager should be that buff, or look that good in plain underwear. It wasn’t fair.

“Cool.” Kip grinned and casually ran his hands down his sides, like he was smoothing a nonexistent shirt. “I hope there’s food, cause I’m starving.”

“Uh-huh.”

This was weird, but not too weird. Like, Kip was his friend, and he was hot, and Stan still hadn’t let himself think about the impact their little interlude last week would have on his own sexual identity, but Kip was acting like normal, so obviously the awkwardness was all on Stan’s part.

He told himself he was staring. It was rude. But his body wouldn’t move, and now Kip was shrugging into one of those tight t-shirts of his, back arching as he lifted it over his head, abdomen flexing. Stan’s hat fell to the floor and he left it there. When Kip bent over to retrieve his jeans, Stan felt like his brain was in power save mode. It was just– Kip had these perfectly round ass cheeks, and last week Stan had managed to slide his hand in the back of the other boy’s loin cloth before he came, and the skin had been so soft and smooth and–

Kip took his time adjusting himself as he buttoned up his pants, buckling his belt at a leisurely pace. He ran his fingers through his hair to get a few stray strands off his face. The faint smell of his cologne was present every time Stan inhaled. Bending from the waist to put his shoes on, Kip had decided to forego socks, and really. Feet bones were something Stan had never thought of as sexy before.

The heat in Stan’s cheeks grew. Fuck. He couldn’t take off his robes when he was like this. He couldn’t even bend over to pick up his hat.

Kip glanced slyly at him from under his lashes and smirked. Stan’s breathing stuttered in his chest. Damn. The boy was hot, and he knew it.

“So, you ready to head out?” Kip asked as he slung his duffel bag on his shoulder.

“Huh? Oh. Yeah. Hold on.” With an amazing amount of self-discipline, Stan managed to retrieve his hat. “Why don’t you, ah, go see if Mike and Tony need a lift, too?”

Raising an eyebrow, but not commenting, Kip just nodded. “Sure, man. Be right back.”

As soon as the blonde left, Stan pressed the heel of his hand to his throbbing dick and took a few deep breaths. Fuuuck. The party was going to be torture.

~~~

The noise from the living room had steadily increased in volume during the past hour.

“Wow,” Megan fluttered nervously, glancing out the kitchen door. “Half the senior class is in my house.”

For a moment, Victoria was distracted by the red ribbon tied around Megan’s neck. It only served to accentuate the brunette’s slim build and drew Victoria’s focus to the plunging neckline of her top. Megan *said* she was over Lex, so Victoria could only hope that meant she was dressing up for someone else. Namely her.

“Well, I think we definitely have enough cookies,” she said as she arranged the fourth batch on a huge platter, giving herself a mental shake. Now was not the time to be ogling the other girl and making her jumpier.

She’d come over earlier to help Megan set up, and had found the girl baking like a mad woman. There was still a sheet baking in the oven, too. The measuring cups had had to be pried from Megan’s white-knuckled grip, and Victoria had almost lost an eye to a spatula. She’d already sat through three of Megan’s freak outs, but at least the other girl wasn’t trying to fold the napkins into origami Christmas trees anymore.

“This is so great!” Megan gushed as she fidgeted with a spare stack of cups. Her eyes were huge and bright, and Victoria found herself sharing the enthusiastic smile. “I didn’t expect so many people. Jennifer brought more drinks, and Dave brought a cheese log with crackers. Stan has some CD mixes he’s bringing. Oh, maybe I should go see if anyone else has music ideas--”

She was nearly bouncing in place. With an exaggerated eye roll, Victoria handed over the cookie tray. “I’ve got it covered in here, so yes,” she made shooing motions. “Go mingle with your guests.”

Laughing, Megan gave her a smile that left Victoria blinking long after the other girl had disappeared.

It was the Lex smile.

Megan had given her The Lex Smile.

Fingering the mistletoe in her pocket, she started humming Greensleeves to herself with a smug grin. Oh yeah. She was so in. She just had to get Megan alone at some point after this, maybe stay to help with the clean-up, and then make her move. The thought of a sneak attack was tempting, just pounce on Megan the next time she came into the kitchen, but that wouldn’t be fair to the other girl. Megan would be flustered for the rest of the night, and while that was another enticing picture, it might ruin Megan’s fun if she was too self-conscious afterwards.

But still, thinking of Megan with her wide shining eyes, the faint blush to her cheeks... She’d probably gasp once she realized what Victoria was going to do, maybe wet her lips a little, or lift a hand to her mouth after...

Desire tightened in Victoria’s gut like a bowstring and she was resolved to take action the minute Megan walked through the kitchen door. Unfortunately, Tony’s face was the next one to come through, and yuck. She sneered when he quailed at her expression.

“Uh. Hey. Stan said I should bring this in here?” He gestured with the holiday paper cups and plates in his hands. “If that’s cool...?”

“You can take them out to the buffet table.”

He sighed as he trudged back out. “Right. When did I become the whipping boy tonight?”

She frowned after him and looked around for anything that might keep her occupied for just a few minutes longer. Maybe if she stayed in the kitchen long enough, Megan would come looking for her.

There was a step stool in the pantry, and she smiled evilly as she set it up under the kitchen’s ceiling light. A little bit of string poached from the odds and ends drawer, and she was ready to set her trap. The mistletoe wasn’t hanging down too far to be noticed without looking up, so she’d just have to maneuver Megan to the right spot...

The kitchen door crashed open again, but it definitely wasn’t Megan. Victoria wanted to growl and beat someone with the stool she was quickly putting back.

“Hey, Victoria! Merry Christmas!” Roger called out as he set his plastic bags on the counter. He still had his jacket on, with a light dusting of snow rapidly melting on his shoulders, and Lex was grumbling behind him. Roger ignored him. “We picked up some more eggnog like Megan asked. Plus a few other things...”

“Did you buy out the 7-Eleven?” She asked incredulously as Lex added his own bags to the pile.

“He wanted to, believe me,” the goth muttered.

Roger shrugged and started taking the bags of potato chips out. He lowered his voice. “I figured a few generic snacks wouldn’t hurt, since we didn’t exactly tell her so many people were going to show up.”

Handing him a bowl, Victoria had to share a real smile with him over that, because he _had_ helped her get the word out to as many of their classmates as possible. Megan had mentioned a few weeks ago about how she had always wanted to have a big party, like more than just their close group, but she was afraid no one would show up and she’d be left with tons of food that would go bad. So Victoria had talked it over with Roger and Stan, and she’d convinced Megan to have an “open” party so they could invite a “couple” more friends. Thankfully, Megan’s parents were out of town.

“How’s Martha Stewart handling the chaos?” Lex asked gruffly, taking off his trench coat. He was still in all black, but he’d left the spiked collar in the car. Or Roger had found another way to get it off him.

But Victoria was in too good of a mood to bristle at his tone or appearance, so she took his concern at face value. “For a wallflower, she’s really getting into it.”

Any further discussion was cut off by Kip bursting in. The noise of the party was nearly deafening until the door swung shut again. Apparently Stan had found the sound system.

“We need napkins, dudes. Like, clean-up on aisle four napkins. Or paper towels.” The blonde said breathlessly.

“What happened?” Roger asked as Victoria grabbed the roll of the counter.

“Just a spilled drink. But still. Don’t want Megan to see it if she doesn’t have to.” He accepted the paper towels, and because he was Kip, he looked above them. “Oh hey, mistletoe.”

With that, he ran back into the fray, and Roger glanced above Lex’s spiked head.

“I will beat you to death with a yule log,” Lex dead panned. “I don’t get the whole attraction of kissing under a deadly plant anyway.”

Roger laughed but didn’t try anything.

“I think we’ll go give Megan a hand,” he said, gathering the chips. “Did you need any help in here?”

“Nah, I’m good. Just waiting on the last batch of cookies.”

“Cool.”

The party was _really_ loud when they opened the door. Victoria was kind of glad to be stuck in the kitchen until the cookies were done. The peace lasted only a little while, interrupted by a few random people wandering through, but that was okay. They saw Victoria and quickly got what they needed. A few more of her classmates hopped in to talk, so she barely noticed the time pass. The cookies were done and it still sounded crazy in the rest of the house. She was debating joining everyone when Megan finally came through the door. The taller girl was flushed and giggling.

“This is sooo great,” she said as she came to stand next to Victoria. “Thank you so, so much for all of this. Really.”

Raising an eyebrow, Victoria shrugged. “You’re the one who put everything together.”

“But you helped. A lot. And I appreciate it.” She lilted towards the counter.

“Did you have anything to drink?” Victoria asked with an amused smirk. Megan started giggling again.

“All I had was the spiced cider, but it did taste kind of funny... Maybe I added too many orange peels?”

Still smirking, Victoria silently added Mike’s name to her list of people who were going to lose their kneecaps. Because everyone else had been told there was no alcohol allowed, and only one person was stupid enough to go against Victoria and Roger (and therefore Lex).

She was trying to think of something innocuous to say, because there was no way she’d take advantage of Megan when she was like that, but suddenly two slender arms were wrapped around her shoulders and Megan’s face was looming close.

“My kitchen seems to have grown some foliage,” Megan said with a flirtatious smile Victoria found herself returning.

“Imagine that.”

“Hmm...”

She tried to prepare herself, but nothing was like Megan slowly pressing their lips together, a teasing light kiss that increased in pressure until Victoria opened her mouth with a small moan. The kiss tasted like apple cider and gingerbread cookies, and Megan seemed intent on entwining herself around Victoria. Her ribs were solid and warm under Victoria’s palms. She sucked on Megan’s tongue until they had to break apart for air.

“Woah.”

The male voice startled Victoria, but Megan wasn’t letting go, and Kip was standing with a dazed expression inside the doorway. Megan started laughing.

“A little privacy here, Kip?” Victoria snapped, handhold tightening.

“Sure, sure.” He backed out of the room slowly, murmuring, “I love my friends. My friends are _awesome._ ”

When the door closed behind him, she looked at Megan, whose snickers had an embarrassed edge to them.

“We probably shouldn’t do this here,” Victoria finally said reluctantly. “And you’re quite possibly drunk.”

Megan pshhed the idea, still draped over her. “A little spiked punch won’t get me drunk. I’ve had more wine with dinner before. And besides...”

She kissed Victoria again, lips still moist and soft.

“This has been the best part of my evening so far.”

Victoria relaxed. They were probably about to be barged in on again, but whoever was that stupid could go to hell.

“Merry Christmas, Meg.”

“Merry Christmas.”

~~~

“So when I said ‘anything,’ I--” Roger broke off when Lex breathed against his naked thigh, panic temporarily forgotten.

“You promised...” Lex reminded him, glancing up from under dark lashes while running his tongue along Roger’s hip.

Roger couldn’t look away.

“Yeah, I know–“ The gasp caught in his throat. An incoherent moan was dragged out of him.

Lex’s mouth was so tight, but Lex’s fingers–

Were cold and slick, and the bed smelled like cherries, but Roger didn’t care as long as Lex crooked his finger like that again, and it was burning and weird but felt _so right_ –

~~~

Some nights Lex wakes up with the taste of copper in his mouth and the chill of snow on his face. Those are the nights when he reaches up, brushes his scarred knuckles over his cheeks until he can feel his own expression again. Until his face doesn't feel numb and his heart stops thudding painfully, each beat wrenched from the sore muscles in his chest. 

The first few months after the accident, he would just go downstairs and watch late night TV until he was too drained to dream. He'd tried taking cold medicines and allergy pills, all the stuff guaranteed to make you sleep, but they just made the nightmares worse. So he watched TV until his brain shut off, but then Ramsey started coming out to sit with him and Lex didn't want to make his brother a sleepless zombie too, so he stopped getting out of bed after the dreams. 

He didn't know what to say in Ramsey's patient silence anyway.

He still doesn't talk about it. Their conversations will be punctuated with these gaping silent holes sometimes, like the empty chairs at the dining room table and the extra space in the garage. 

Ramsey made him go see to this counselor, Rita, for the first year after. A plump woman who smelled like gardenias and suggested he stop listening to rock music and role-playing. After his screaming match with Ramsey, he didn't have to go to his weekly sessions anymore. The patient silence started being filled with idle chatter, about Ramsey's students and his digs or his role-playing and the latest girl he was seeing. Normal stuff.

Then Ramsey got possessed and Lex knew, but he didn't want to acknowledge it. But the whole thing went down without any serious casualties, and it gave him Roger, so he can't really hold a grudge against his stupid brother. At least now Ramsey's more careful about the shit he brings home from his digs, because Lex chewed him out when he woke up. Lex had been so pissed at him-so, so pissed-and he almost cried, which he hates, and that made Ramsey feel even guiltier, but at least it got Lex's point across. 

He can't lose anyone else. He can't. He can't watch anyone else he loves die. 

But now the silences are back, lurking in the shadows of the house. Two people who had always had full schedules and social gatherings and smiles for everyone. Just echoes in the corners of every room. 

Sometimes he wakes up with a sound dying on his lips and a sore throat. That's when Ramsey will appear in the doorway of his room, sleepy-eyed and yawning, and he'll push Lex over to make room on the bed so he can stretch out on top of the covers. Lex never talks about it and Ramsey never asks any questions, but his brother snores like a dying moose and that's when Lex can finally drift back off to sleep.

He's a wreck and he knows it. Sometimes he thinks about the day Roger will decide that the whole thing between them isn't worth the effort, and resignation settles in his chest. He knows he's an asshole and that he has more mood swings than Victoria. _He_ would have left his sorry ass weeks ago, but Roger's still around. Still smiling that dopey grin every time he sees Lex, and part of Lex's sense of doom comes from the fact that Roger is so damn cheerful but Lex hasn't gotten annoyed by it. Yet. And he's afraid he will one day. Just snap and push and push until Roger walks away for good. Or worse, Lex's own negativity will grind Roger down until he's just another sullen face in the halls. Another ghost of a human being. 

It scares him, knowing he has that kind of power over someone and that he actually cares whether he hurts Roger. It's not like the stupid teachers, or the other students that are too scared to get close to him. Not even like the role-players, who make Lex wonder how they would treat him if the game wasn't there. No, Roger is different, and Lex keeps pushing down all those stupid thoughts about the future and them making plans together and living happily ever after.

There are no happily ever afters. Not for Lex, not for anyone. No matter what Roger makes him want to believe.

"How do I look?"

Asking Ramsey is his first mistake. Waiting to hear the answer is his second.

"Like you're going to church," Ramsey says with a smirk, looking up from the papers he's grading at the table. "What's the occasion?"

Lex fidgets with the collar of his button-up shirt, avoiding Ramsey's eyes. It's not like he has a tie on or anything. He's not even wearing slacks. Just a black shirt with a couple buttons undone at his throat tucked into his usual black jeans. He'd replaced the collar with a smaller black cord choker, but he'd kept the heavy gauge earring in.

"Nothing," he mumbles when Ramsey doesn't immediately return to his work.

"I thought you were going out with Roger tonight," Ramsey says smugly as he twirls his grading pen. "You gonna take him to some swanky restaurant? I don't think you need to butter him up at this point, bro-He's seems like a sure thing. Or did you forget an anniversary?"

Lex glowers even as his cheeks flush and Ramsey has the gall to laugh. 

"You pull out flowers, little brother, and I'll have to dig up the camera."

"It's nothing like that," he snarls. "Ass. We're just having dinner. At his place."

Ramsey's eyebrows ascend. "Oh, really… So you're finally meeting the folks? Sounds serious."

Shrugging, Lex hates the fact that he's fidgeting even more now. This is such a stupid idea, and it's going to be so embarrassing…

"Was this your idea or his?" Ramsey asks gently when Lex doesn't respond. 

"His mom's, actually," he mumbles, cheeks getting redder. "She, ah, heard that Roger was seeing someone and apparently staged an Inquisition."

"He cracked pretty quick, huh?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

"Well, I haven't had any angry phone calls or mobs with pitch forks on the front lawn, so I'm assuming they took it fairly well?" Ramsey's tone is cautious, and Lex knows his brother would be perfectly willing to… _smooth_ things over if someone was giving Lex grief, so he's quick to reassure.

"Yeah, yeah. Looks like it." His stomach flips. "I don't know, really, though. They haven't met me yet."

Ramsey slouches back in his chair, relaxing. "Don't worry about it." He waves a hand carelessly. "Just don't obsess over the role-playing thing and you'll do fine. I'd emphasize the good grades, though."

Rolling his eyes, Lex goes to get his jacket from the hall. "I'm not giving them a resume. His mom just wants to know what I look like."

Ramsey follows him to the hall, still twirling his pencil. "All the easier to run you over if she ever sees you on the street… I'd be careful, if I were you."

Lex glares at his smirking sibling and yanks his jacket into place. "Ha-hah. Jerk."

"Good luck."

Having Ramsey trail behind him just makes him feel even more queasy, kind of like the first day of school and trips to the doctor all rolled in one. He returns the sarcastic little wave Ramsey gives him with a one fingered salute as he backs out of the driveway. The roads have been plowed, but he's still careful as he accelerates away from the house.

He'd had a bad feeling when Roger called him yesterday, since Roger hardly ever calls on a Sunday, and hearing Roger's tightly controlled voice on the other end tell him that his parents *knew* hadn't been reassuring in the least. He knows Roger was planning on telling his parents at some point, just neither of them thought it'd be this soon. 

Lex almost resents losing the privacy they'd had before, but if it's a choice between making nice with Roger's parents or not really getting to see Roger outside of school much anymore, then he'll suffer, no question. They knew this was a possibility when they didn't deny anything at school. There'd been a few asshole comments the first couple of days after they'd shown up on the gossip radar, but when a few of the guys from Roger's team had gotten in some freshman's face over it, things had tentatively settled down. Lex had been sure someone on the faculty was going to call Roger's parents over that one, but apparently no one had. But skipping the full blown after-school special drama didn't mean that people weren't talking about them, even if the more negative murmurs are mostly ignored or put down.

It's depressing how Lex has gone from the school's token goth to the token gay goth, and he's even had a couple members of the school's GSA group approach him. That went well, at least by his standards. He knows they talked to Roger, too, but unfortunately his boyfriend is a nice person and didn't tell them where they could shove their support meetings. He can tell that Roger's tempted to go to one, that's just the kind of guy he is, but Lex isn't interested in being anyone's role model or whatever. 

Mulling that over gets him to Roger's street, and then he has to focus on finding the right house since Roger gives crap directions. He's trying not to get worked up more than he is, because he knows he gets pissy and he doesn't think that would go down well with Roger's parents. But then he's on Roger's porch in front of Roger's perfect middle-class house, complete with basketball hoop above the garage, and he's asking himself what he thinks he's doing. Why can't they just keep sneaking around to see each other? Do other teenagers have to meet their boyfriend's parents? Really, who does that anymore? With his luck, he'll get hives from the Norman Rockwell tableau he's about to enter. 

He rings the doorbell and tries not to shiver.

A balding man in a cable-knit sweater answers the door, blinking myopically at Lex from behind thick glasses. 

Wow. Roger had *said* his dad was a Dork, but Lex hadn't really believed him. When Roger's dad smiles though, there's enough of the goofy grin there that Lex lets himself relax a little.

"Hi, Mr. McCormick." Oh gawd, he should just start calling himself Eddie.

"You must be Lex," Roger's dad says as he shakes Lex's hand and waves him in. "Come on inside and thaw yourself out. We were just setting the table."

Shrugging out of his jacket, Lex finds that the place is pretty much what he imagined it would be. They go down a tastefully decorated hallway and end up in the dining room, which looks like something out of a magazine. Roger's arranging the silverware when they come in and he gives Lex a nervous smile.

"Hey."

"Hey," Lex returns a little awkwardly. Mr. McCormick claps him on the shoulder, gesturing towards the living room.

"Why don't you have a seat, Lex. Roger, you make him comfortable and I'll go pry your mom away from her computer."

As soon as his dad leaves the room, Roger is next to Lex, leaning close. 

"How're you?" Lex murmurs, trying to grab his hand in a totally nonchalant way.

"Fine. Good. I'm cool." The rush of words is so not Roger, and the desperate strength in his grip makes Lex want to wince, but he doesn't.

"Good."

Roger's eyes are a little bloodshot, like he lay awake most of the night like Lex, and it's not a look that suits him. But Lex summons a grin that he hopes is reassuring, and the noise from the hall gives them just enough warning to let go. He curls his fingers around the lingering warmth in his palm as Roger's parents come in.

"Hi, Lex," Mrs. McCormick says brightly, zeroing in on him. Roger said she's one of those people that you can never tell if she's about to hug you or bawl you out, so Lex tries to put on his most normal smile.

"Hello," and he feels like an utter tool, but her attention is apparently on the table now and both of the boys relax a little.

"So what're we having tonight, dear?" She asks Mr. McCormick, who heads for the kitchen.

"Roast beasty and smashed taters." 

It sounds like a rote reply, and Roger rolls his eyes at Lex before finishing the silverware. His parents bring out the food, which Lex tries to help with but they wave him off, and he just stands to one side, wondering if this was how Roger felt that first traumatic dinner with Ramsey. 

When everyone's seated, they actually stop to say grace, which Lex has never done even before the accident, so he sits quietly and says amen when he's supposed to. 

"So, Lex," Mrs. McCormick says casually as she's passing the potatoes. Lex hopes he doesn't look too obviously wary. "Roger said that you're not into sports, that you're more of an academic type? What sorts of things do you like to do?"

Lex debates his words for two seconds before smiling. "I don't really play well with others, ma'am. I've done some theater, acting that sort of thing. I mostly stick to reading and drawing."

"There's nothing wrong with being a loner," Mr. McCormick remarks before his wife can reply. 

"Of course not, honey," she says with an indulgent smile and Mr. McCormick explains in an aside to Lex,

"I wasn't exactly on the football team in high school, either, and gym class was a nightmare. I think the only time I went out, really, was our weekly D&D meetings. But I was still cool."

"Of course you were, honey," Mrs. McCormick says dryly as she cuts her roast beef.

"D&D?" Roger asks with a confused look while Lex is trying not to smirk. Anything he said would probably have a hysterical tinge to it right now anyway.

"Yeah, you know, Dungeons and Dragons? People sit around a table and roll dice?" Roger's dad mock frowns. "Don't tell me you kids have never heard of it. I thought it was still around."

"Oh." Roger's eyes go round and, since his boyfriend can't lie or even change the subject worth shit, Lex says quickly,

"It is, sir. I think some guys at our school play it. Although I think a lot of it is online now."

"That's a shame. We used to have fun." And he really does look disappointed. Roger glances at Lex, who turns his attention to the food.

"This is really good. It's much better than I'm used to."

"Cooking's one of John's hobbies," Mrs. McCormick answers with a smile across the table at her husband. "Which is great for me and Roger, since neither of us can cook."

"You catch one pan on fire and no one lets you forget it," Roger mock frowns. It's an adorable expression, but the gooey feelings it evokes makes Lex want to go kick puppies or something to make up for it. 

"Try eating Ramsey's cooking every other night," he says instead, and knows he just left himself wide open.

"That's right," Mrs. McCormick says on cue. "You live with your brother."

A line used by teachers and other adults everywhere, but it's a script Lex can follow easy. So he starts talking about Ramsey and teaching at the university, which is always good for boring small talk and inherently safe since it really doesn't have much to do with Lex directly. Plus, it leads into archaeology and Mr. McCormick's Egyptology hobby, so they have plenty of inane subjects.

By the time they finish eating, Roger is beaming across the table at him and Mrs. McCormick's questions are less pointed. And since it's a school night, he has an excuse to run like hell once they're done.

"You'll have to come over again soon," Mrs. McCormick says as he's slowly retreating to the front door. "Maybe we can meet Ramsey sometime, too."

That… would definitely be trauma-inducing. So Lex grins. "I'll mention it to him."

"Great." Mr. McCormick replies for them as he claps Lex on the shoulder again and shakes his hand. He's realized that they're a very tactile family. "It was good to meet you, Lex. Maybe next time we can look at those mummy books."

"That'd be cool, sir."

Then Roger is ushering him out onto the porch, shivering in his blue sweater. They stand there for a moment, studying each other, and Roger smiles.

"Thanks for doing this," he mumbles, looking down at his sneakers.

Lex shrugs. "It wasn't too terrible. Your parents are cool."

Roger squints up at him. "They liked you. I could tell. Dad doesn't talk about mummies with all my friends."

It's the shy grin that gets to him, and Lex does what he's been wanting to do all night. Cupping Roger's flushed cheek with one hand, he kisses him lightly on the lips and presses their foreheads together for a moment, savoring the warmth.

He wants to stay. He doesn't want to have to deal with anyone else for the next few years, and he wants to drag Roger off someplace where the roads aren't icy and the shadows aren't waiting and there aren't any parents on the other side of the door, probably listening in. He wants it to be just the two of them, and it scares him how much.

Pulling away, he kisses Roger again because they won't see each other until tomorrow, and tries not to think about the cold when Roger steps back towards the house. 

"Go back in before you freeze," Lex finally says gruffly, and Roger gets that dopey grin again.

"See you in the morning."

On the drive home, Lex plays the evening over in his head and decides he feels okay with it. He might even be able to sleep tonight.

~~~

There never seems to be an opportune moment to approach his mom about it, so Roger decides to get her while she's in her study after diner. It doesn't even occur to him to ask his dad first, because his dad's more likely to say yes, but his mom's the one who has the actual final say.

"Hey, mom?" He asks softly, knocking on the doorframe. She looks up with a distracted expression and his gut sinks, but he forges on anyway. "I, uh, just wanted to ask if you wouldn't mind me crashing at Lex's on Saturday? It's the Winter Formal, so we're going to be out late anyway, and I just figured it would be safer if I stayed there instead of driving back that late…"

Having a lawyer for a mom has taught him to make a strong opening argument, and he put a few of his cards on the table there, but she's just kind of staring through him, her thinking face, and then she purses her lips.

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that, Roger. It's one thing for you to stay out late with Lex on Fridays, but to actually condone you spending the night?"

He can feel his cheeks start to redden, but he argues, "Aw, mom. It's not that different from us just hanging out. Besides, the dance ends at midnight, then the After Party starts, and that goes until three. By the time I drop Lex off, I might as well have spent the night anyway, and driving home after a full night's sleep is much safer than being on the roads at four am with all the other sleep-deprived drivers."

He tries to look innocent. Her look is skeptical.

"Your argument leaves something to be desired."

Before he can respond, she pins him with an intense stare until he shifts uncomfortably. Setting her pen on the desk, she leans forward on her elbows.

"Are you being safe?"

"What?" Roger blinks at the non sequitur.

"Well, you're two seventeen-year-old males, and it wasn't that long ago for me that I can't remember what being a teenager was like, so I just want to know if you're using the proper protection-"

"MOM!" His voice cracks like it hasn't since he made it through puberty. Even his _toes_ are beet red. "I-We're-How can you-"

"I think I've been very good about not prying into your personal affairs, dear," she states calmly. "But I just want to make sure you're being safe. I know it feels like you're immortal when you're seventeen, but there are a lot of responsibilities you have to take on when you become sexually active. And I'm not so clueless that I don't know what you'll be doing when you're 'crashing' at Lex's, so before I consent to that, I want you to assure me that you're handling this like a responsible adult."

His mouth opens a few times, but no sound comes out. This is _not_ a conversation he ever imagined having with his mother. He's maybe had a few nightmares that start like this, but…

"We're-careful," he finally manages stiltedly. "I mean, neither of us has had-Well, I mean, we were both-There hasn't been anyone-" His brain stutters to a halt and can't find a way to say "virgin" in front of her. From the look on her face, she understands what he's trying to say anyway.

"I see. Well, that's still no reason not to get in the habit of safe sex now-"

"MOM!" His brain hurts. It really does.

"As long as you're aware of all the STDs out there and understand the possible consequences of your actions. At least we don't have to worry about anyone getting pregnant. Ooh, I'll have to point that one out to Marge the next time she opens her fat mouth..."

If Lex were here, he would be laughing hysterically. That's the only thought Roger can process.

"You don't have to be eighteen to buy condoms these days, do you?" She continues. "I swear, every time I turn around, there's a new restriction on something. Sudafed behind the counters, carding teenagers for White Out at the Walgreens." She pauses, finally acknowledging Roger's traumatized expression. "That's all beside the point, honey. What I'm saying is, if you need condoms, your father and I will be more than happy to provide you with some as long as you promise to use them."

Finally remembering to breathe again, Roger manages a weak grin. Well, more like grimace. "Actually, Ramsey, uh, gave us a few already…"

"That was well-thought out on his part." Said perfectly serious, and Roger feels like he's in the twilight zone. Maybe his mom is possessed? He hopes not. He doesn't want to have to beat anything up with a baseball bat again.

With a final decisive nod, she picks up her pen and returns to her files. "All right, honey. You can 'crash' at Lex's Saturday night, granted that Ramsey agrees too, but only because it's the Formal and you don't have school on Monday. But don't expect to make this a habit, mister, and remember to be safe. No drinking, either."

"Thanks," he manages awkwardly before staggering down the hall to the kitchen. His dad's loading the dishwasher and Roger veers for the stairs.

"Everything okay, kiddo?" His dad asks, pausing with dish in hand.

Roger flinches and waves towards the stairs. "Talked about sex with mom. Have to go commit ritual suicide now."

"Ah," he sounds sympathetic. "Carry on, then. But don't forget we have that dinner party with the Scotts tomorrow, so you'll have to fend for yourself. Maybe you could take Lex out?"

"Ehhmm," he kind of grunts and slinks up the stairs. His dad entertaining clients is normal. Non-mindbreaking. Suggesting Roger take Lex out is new, but not so traumatizing in comparison to his mom's topic of conversation.

Lex better appreciate everything he just went through for Saturday. That thought makes him smile, and he collapses on his bed with a sigh.

~~~

Well, Lex has to admit that he looks good in stripes. Ramsey would add the caveat "prison" stripes, but the silver and black of Lex's zoot suit actually look classy together. He tips his black hat at an angle, staring thoughtfully at his reflection.

A cane. It needs a cane. Too bad school regs apply to dances, or he could take his sword cane. He settles for adjusting his hat again.

"Are you still in front of the mirror?" Ramsey drawls from the other side of the bedroom door.

"Shut up."

"C'mon, I promise not to take any pictures if you just come out."

Lex rolls his eyes as Ramsey snickers at his own pun, and goes to open the door. "Fine. I've still got ten minutes until Roger gets here. Might as well waste them with you."

"You're too kind," Ramsey says with a smirk as the camera flash goes off. Lex kicks him in the shin. "Ow, dammit."

"Bite me." Lex brushes past him and stomps down the stairs. Ramsey trails behind, fiddling with his digital camera.

"No thanks," he says absently, and takes another shot of Lex's retreating back.

"Glad to see one of us still has the mentality of a twelve-year-old."

"Coming from you? I laugh."

"Jerk."

"Ankle-biter."

Lex opens the fridge and tosses Ramsey a can of soda before taking his own to the dining room table. Setting the camera aside, Ramsey sits opposite him.

"So you're actually going to a dance," he says smugly, then pretends to wipe a tear from his eye. "My little brother, all grown up."

"Fuck off."

"You're turning into a social butterfly," Ramsey says dramatically. "My, how the years pass so quickly. I remember like it was yesterday, the times you would pee your pants in kindergart--- Ow!"

Lex gets up and retrieves another can of soda from the fridge. The threat of more violence doesn't deter Ramsey, unfortunately. Not like Lex actually thought it would.

"So," Ramsey says casually. "What time you planning on being home?"

Lex shrugs. "Two. Maybe three. Depends on how long the stupid After Party lasts."

Ramsey nods, picking at the tab of his soda can. "Ah. And Roger's spending the night here."

"Yeah."

"Cool. He's driving?"

Lex stares at the tabletop. "… Probably."

"…Just be careful, then. It snowed today."

"I know…"

The doorbell saves them from saying anything else, which Lex is grateful for. He's been trying not to think of it all day, and then Ramsey has to open his mouth-

Roger is in a black tux with a mandarin collar. Lex has to blink a few times, just to take it all in. His boyfriend has actually styled his hair and is that cologne?

Smiling nervously, Roger shifts under the scrutiny and Lex smirks, standing back so he can come in.

"Hey."

"Hey," Roger says and leans in for a kiss. The camera blinds them, and Lex casually tosses over his shoulder, "I _do_ know where you sleep."

"That's why I lock the door at night, kiddo." Ramsey comes into the foyer and gives Roger a much warmer smile than he'd given Lex. "You look good, Roger. Black suits you."

"Ah, thanks," Roger stutters, blushing a little. 

Lex forgives Ramsey for taking a picture of him just then, because that one's going on his wall. Next to his bed. Not that he has a thing for blushing Rogers.

"Well, we really should be heading out," he says briskly, shoving Ramsey out of the way. "Dances to storm, people to kill. All that jazz."

"No messing with the sound system," Ramsey orders with a frown.

"Or blowing anything up," Roger adds.

"Or poisoning the food."

"And no black magic, period."

"That includes bad 80s hair demons."

They all laugh at that, and Lex supposes that's something. If they can joke about it, maybe it won't give him nightmares for the rest of his life.

He ushers Roger out the door amid a flurry of camera flashes, and pauses at the edge of the porch. The front yard's covered in snow, glistening bright in the moonlight, and the roads are white with salt. Roger smiles next to him, digging his keys out of his pockets.

"I parked my truck on the street…" He says apologetically.

Lex shrugs. "Ramsey and I aren't really the types to shovel."

"Maybe I can do it tomorrow."

"I can think of much better ways to get you sweaty," Lex says slyly, and Roger blushes again, right on cue.

"We're-" His voice cracks and he clears his throat. Lex smirks wider. "We're going to be late, if we don't leave now."

"Probably."

Roger rolls his eyes at Lex's societal disregard, and things are normal between them again. Lex only loses his footing once on the way to the truck, Roger catching him from behind, but it's enough to have his heart pounding in his throat by the time they open the doors.

"When was the last time they plowed?" He asks, hoping the tension in his voice isn't obvious. Roger looks sideways at him, and he knows he hasn't fooled him.

"The roads are fine. I didn't have any problems coming over. They wouldn't have the dance if it was hazardous."

Lex doesn't say anything else, but he can tell that Roger notices every time his hands tighten on the door handle or he flinches when they take a corner too fast for his liking. But Roger doesn't say anything, just slows down, and soon enough they're at the school.

He gets out of the truck on shaky legs and calls himself a fool. Then Roger is at his elbow and he smiles for him, and they enter the school to wait in the ticket line. Kip is a few people ahead of them, so they wander over to say hello and just happen to merge into line with him. No one says anything, though, so Lex is content knowing that he still has half the student body afraid of him. Dating Roger hasn't hurt his psychotic outcast appearance much, hopefully.

He stands through the idle chitchat all the way to the front of the line, and then they're heading into the gym, with its terrible decorations and bad dance music. He thinks of all the episodes of Buffy where horrible things happen to the student body, and maybe thinks fondly of the movie Carrie, and Roger smiles happily back at him, surreptitiously squeezing his hand.

"See, it's not so bad," Roger says, leaning in to be heard over the bass.

"No, not at all." He just needs a pyrokinetic to taunt and wouldn't that be a perfect end for the evening? But where to get the pig's blood? Damn, wasn't that Prom anyway?

Stan and the girls have procured one of the tables farthest from the sound system, but Lex has no reprieve from the Boyz II Men song spewing forth. He gives Roger a Look.

"You'll survive," Roger laughs, shrugging out of his jacket and draping it over a chair before turning to Stan. 

Victoria smirks at Lex from behind Roger, and Lex gives her a snide smile.

"Hi, Victoria," he says sweetly.

"Lex, so glad you could make it," she replies. He's still amazed by her large white teeth. Like a shark's, really.

"Hi!" Megan says enthusiastically, eyes bright and grin wide, as she appears at his elbow. "Isn't this great?"

"Wonderful." But he can't really put all the venom in his voice when she's all lit up like this, so he just kind of nods and pretends to be busy with his overcoat. The hat brim is helpful.

The group wanders after that, with Kip heading for the buffet table and Megan coaxing everyone except Lex out onto the dance floor. Roger promises to get him out there later, but Lex is good and refrains from informing him that all the sexual favors in the world won't make that happen.

Five songs later, Kip returns to the table laden down with drinks for everyone and a handful of cheese cubes in a napkin. Lex frowns at him. The boy is a freak.

"Hey," Kip says through a mouthful of cheese. "Got you a Coke."

"Thanks." He opens the bottle with a vicious twist and watches the four out on the dance floor.

"They look like they're having fun," Kip says over the music.

"Yup."

"Wanna head over?"

"Nope."

"Will you watch the table, then?"

"That's what I planned on."

"Cool. Thanks, dude."

"No prob."

Roger really shouldn't be allowed to dance in public, Lex decides, though it pains him to admit it. Not that he would ever tell Roger that, but at least Lex _knows_ that he can't dance, so he doesn't bother inflicting his attempts on anyone else. Kip must have the same opinion, because he tries to show Roger a few moves. It can only end in disaster. But everyone in the group is laughing, shouting at each other over the music, so maybe the night isn't a complete waste.

Stan and Victoria stagger back to the table after the song finishes, gasping for air and laughing.

"Hey, drinks!" Stan exclaims.

"Kip played waiter," Lex says offhandedly. "What is he _doing_ out there?"

"Some new dance he learned at one of his clubs," Victoria says with an eye roll. "Honestly, he might as well just tattoo 'Man-Whore' across his ass."

That comment makes Stan blush, deep enough to be seen in the terrible lighting, and Lex files the reaction away for further contemplation.

"So where's Tony and Mike?" Stan says in an oh-so-subtle attempt to change the subject.

"Did you really expect them to show up?" Lex asks incredulously, swirling his Coke.

"Well, you did, so it must be the season of miracles…"

Lex groans and waves Stan away, no amount of deflection worth putting up with that. Stan just laughs, though, and returns to his drink.

There's not much else to do except people watch from the tables, although a few fellow seniors Lex recognizes wander by to say hello to Victoria. She's busy watching the group members still on the floor, though, but it's Megan her eyes are following. Interesting. He'll interrogate Roger on that later.

"Why don't you get out there?" Stan asks Lex suddenly. Some of Lex's vitriol must show on his face while he's deciding on the most scathing reply, because Stan holds up his hands and backpedals. "Woah, never mind! Forget I asked!"

"I don't dance," Lex finally responds with a frown.

"Gee, really, Fearless Leader?" Victoria says without looking at him. "We totally hadn't noticed."

Some random guy wandering over to the table to ask her to dance saves Lex from answering. The school's ban on weapons makes more sense now. He relaxes back into the chair and looks up at the sky lights in the ceiling. Snow falling lightly outside the upper windows makes his heart stutter for a second, but he just returns his attention to his drink and listens to Stan start rambling on about game ideas with half an ear.

Roger and Kip finish their dance, breathless and laughing, and Lex is surprised that he isn't jealous. He always thought he'd be the type. Megan motions back at the table to Roger and the two head over.

Lex holds up another Coke, and smirks when Roger drains half of it in one chug. He sees popularity at many frat parties in Roger's future. Megan just sips from the Sprite Stan handed her and smiles at the entire room.

"Wanna go again?" She asks Roger, but he waves lazily.

"Ah, no. I need to catch my breath. Besides," he glances at Lex, "I'm hoping I can drag someone out there…"

"No."

Stan quickly offers to take Roger's place and sweeps Megan off to the dance floor again. Roger slumps down into the chair next to Lex, a sheen of sweat on his skin, and Lex decides that socializing can go to hell.

"Wanna head back to my place?" He yells into Roger's ear, trying to be heard over the music. Roger looks at him with a bemused grin for a moment and Lex blushes at the cheesiness of it, but then Roger's leaning in, breath hot against Lex's neck.

"What about the after party? We already paid for our tickets."

Lex gives him a skeptical look. "You'd really rather be here when we have the entire night to ourselves?"

"Good point." Roger gives him a wicked smile, one that goes straight to Lex's groin.

"Let's say our goodbyes, shall we?" Lex suggests quickly. Roger just arches a knowing eyebrow and nods in agreement.

~~~

Lex has a scar on his leg, a straight line of ropey raised skin from his left knee along his shin to mid-calf. Roger traces it lightly with his finger as they lay on the bed, sweat cooling and breaths slowing. His cheek is pressed to the muscle of Lex's thigh, just as Lex's head is cradled by the curve of his own body, and he doesn't think before he reaches out to touch the shiny skin in front of him.

After a moment, Lex jerks his leg away. Not far, but enough to startle Roger, and he realizes he's trespassing again. A glance at Lex's closed eyes, his remote expression, confirms it, and he doesn't have to ask where it came from. Four months together, and he knows what conversations to avoid.

Instead he savors the warmth of the sweaty skin under his cheek, the weight of Lex's head on his ribs, the musky smell filling the room, and the pleasant aching of his body. Even when his neck starts to feel strained, he appreciates it because it grounds him, makes the moment even more real, and he lets his hand slide up to Lex's stomach, safer territory and soft flesh he can't seem to get enough of just touching. He still has moments when it doesn't feel real, when he doesn't believe that he has Lex and Lex wants him back and they're really doing this, staying together.

"My leg was broken," Lex mumbles unexpectedly. 

Roger tenses for a second, fingers stilling on Lex's abdomen before he starts stroking the skin lightly again. He doesn't know what to say and his mouth feels like it's been glued shut, so he tries to convey his attention with the soft strokes.

"I-" Lex begins, but breaks off, shifting his shoulders restlessly and unconsciously nuzzling Roger's side. His eyes are still shut, but when he opens them and looks at Roger, dark eyes bright but dry, Roger can't look away. "I spun out, back on Deacon Road. That sharp curve with the drop? Black ice. We went through the guard rail, and I was trapped under the dash. Stuck. I’d just gotten my learner’s permit, and--"

Lex isn't seeing him, and it makes him want to shiver, even though the room is hot. The heavy blanket of snow outside seems less idyllic now, though. Less welcoming. So he presses on Lex's stomach a little instead, enough to bring him back. To make him stay.

"The passenger side… The car got stuck on some trees. It-wrapped around one. Totally crumpled it. I-My dad. He was in the back seat. He flew out the-He wasn't wearing his seat belt… They found him at the bottom of the embankment, in the bushes. Mom was up front, with me…"

Roger's hand follows the line of Lex's ribs until he captures the hand resting over the other boy's heart and grips it, holds it tight. Horror is blooming in his chest, choking his lungs the more lost Lex's expression becomes.

"She had her seat belt on, but she hit the window with her head… A tree came through the front. It was just-There was… a mess. It was a mess. She was just-dangling there. From the seatbelt. And she didn't-she didn't die right away, not like dad. But they said, with her head-She probably didn't feel anything. Didn't know…"

Heavy silence before Lex speaks again.

"I was freezing. Trapped under the dash, choking on the dust from the airbag. And I couldn't do anything. Just. Lay there. Listening to the car shift, the trees groan. They think it might've been thirty minutes before the 911 call came in. I don't know. I had a concussion. I don't even really remember finding mom's cell. Hey--"

Roger doesn't realize he's crying until Lex reaches out, rubs a wet path across his temple.

"I didn't want to make you sad," Lex murmurs.

Shaking his head helplessly, Roger sits up, bends until he can press his lips to Lex's cheek, skin hot. Lex just curls in around him closer, presses back against his lips with his head.

"I love you," Roger manages to whisper past his burning throat. "I love you so much."

And Lex is shaking, and Roger didn't want to make the hurting worse, but he can't do anything to help it. Can't do anything except work his arms around Lex's naked body, his boney ribs and spine-Can't do anything except haul him up more securely into his lap, hold him tightly. Burrow his face into Lex's neck and let him grip Roger's arms with white-knuckled fingers until it hurts.

Holds on until Lex is still, until he can't feel his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Until he can lie back comfortably and drape Lex across his chest, pulling the comforter over them both to ward off the sudden chill of the room, never letting Lex go even as they stretch out in an exhausted pile of limbs. Soft breaths stir the hair around his ear, humid heat on his neck. He closes his swollen eyes, trying to breathe through his mouth instead of his nose, and squeezes when Lex gives one last final shudder.

"I love you too," Lex mouths against the skin of his shoulder, and they lay quietly until sleep comes.

~~~

Lex doesn't wake up until late morning. He's hot, even with half the blankets kicked off him, and there's a heavy weight against his back. His head feels like someone took a sandblaster to it.

He tries to shift, to get some air, but he and Roger are stuck together by night sweat and who knows what else. He freezes when Roger rolls away with a snorting noise, and looks over his shoulder to find his boyfriend still asleep.

The debate of staying in bed and Roger watching or getting up and hitting the bathroom is a difficult one. He kind of wants to stay, because he doesn't know if he'll ever have the opportunity again, but his bladder is really protesting.

Roger decides it for him, waking up quietly and blinking sleepily back at him. Lex pushes up, swinging his legs off the bed before he's caught staring like some lovesick teenager, and realizes that he slept naked. It's an odd feeling, but not terrible. He glances back at Roger, who's watching him unabashedly. He can't help but return the grin.

"Morning," Roger says through a smothered yawn, and Lex bends over to kiss him chastely on the lips before he can stop himself.

"Morning."

He digs around on the floor for a decently clean pair of sweats as Roger burrows back under the covers. His bathroom's just across the hall, but Lex still peers out cautiously before shutting the bedroom door behind him and quickly hopping into the bathroom. He doesn't trust Ramsey not to be lying in wait.

There's a hickey on his chest, he notices when he looks in the mirror later. He presses his fingers to it, noting but not really registering the heat from the bruised flesh. He stares at his scarred knuckles and his lungs feel like they're suddenly empty.

He's never even told Ramsey everything. Not all of it. How could he, when he's already taken away their parents? Why do it a second time, all over again? The doctors think he doesn't remember much. That's his official story, at least.

Roger-

He told Roger. Everything.

He lets it sink in. Waits for a reaction. His hands are shaking, but there's no panic. No dizzying fear.

A clang of a pot from the kitchen startles him, and he stares into his own wide eyes for a moment. Blinks. Then reaches for the door handle.

Roger's awake when he slips back into the room. A wide smile greets him and the knot in his chest loosens a little.

"Is Ramsey cooking again?" Roger asks, voice muzzy with sleep as he picks up his clothes.

Lex winces. "That's what it sounds like."

"Oh no." Roger stares at the jeans in his hands for a moment, then looks blearily around for his underwear. His backpack has half its contents spilled out across his feet.

Lex is glad to see he's not the only one who doesn't deal well with mornings.

They get dressed without speaking, navigating around each other. Roger catches him around the waist as he's walking past though, and Lex allows himself to be nuzzled. He's tempted to drag Roger back into bed and get rid of all the clothes they just put on, but if Ramsey's cooking, that means he'll be up to wake them soon enough. Better to get down to the kitchen first.

"C'mon," he says when it's obvious Roger is content to lean against his shoulder and maybe fall back asleep.

"…'kay…" Roger frowns, but lets Lex pull him out of the room.

The kitchen looks like it always does when Ramsey is cooking, but they still stop and blink at the mess. Ramsey gives them a bright smile and fiddles with his skillet.

"Hey, sleepyheads. I thought you were never going to wake up." He scrapes at something in the pan. "Nicole gave me a recipe for crepes I thought I'd try out today. I think I've almost got the hang of it now. It'll probably be another twenty minutes, though."

"At least the smoke detector hasn't gone off yet," Lex says philosophically. 

Roger yawns. "I'll go shovel the driveway."

"I'll watch," Lex offers helpfully. He grins when Roger gives him a pseudo-irate look.

"Lazy."

"Smart."

"Whatever."

He follows Roger to the front door, but it's cold out and the shovel is in the garage, so he opens the overhead door and does some pointing from the sidelines.

"Have fun," he says cheerfully as Roger tucks his scarf tightly around his chin and strides forth with determination. He could mention the fact that they usually pay one of the neighborhood kids to clear it with his snow blower, but then he wouldn't get to watch Roger bending over in his blue jeans.

"You're so evil," Ramsey murmurs behind him, and Lex glares.

"Shouldn't you be at the stove and _not_ staring at my boyfriend's ass?"

"This is more fun. I hate crepes."

"Then make something else."

Roger yells over his shoulder, "I'll take three eggs scrambled and some bacon."

"Sure thing, hon." Ramsey calls back, and Lex elbows him in the gut. "Oof."

"Kitchen, bitch. Kitchen."

Ramsey's laughter makes him smile, and Roger glances back at him, grinning widely. The driveway's almost halfway done, so all that football practice isn't a complete waste of (roleplaying) time. Lex shivers and withdraws a little further into the house.

"Did you want toast with that?"

"Two slices," Roger shouts. "With butter."

"Will do."

The kitchen is warm and smells slightly charred, but at least Ramsey is using a new pan to fry the eggs. Sometimes he forgets and the results are… interesting.

"You two got back early," Ramsey comments as he serves himself from the pan. Lex ignores him as he cracks more eggs. "Did you stay for the after party?"

"Nah. I was tempted to swallow my tongue after an hour, so we split."

"Mhmm." Ramsey dishes the new batch of eggs out and reaches around Lex to get more. "You might want to tell Roger to wear a turtleneck the next few days."

He can feel his cheeks reddening, but he refuses to let Ramsey score one, so he just shrugs. "His mom offered to buy condoms. She may be disappointed if he doesn't come home with at least a few hickeys to display."

"Twisted," Ramsey nods with a smirk, acknowledging the parry. Then his expression turns serious as he focuses on the pan. "Everything else okay, though? No problems."

Trust Ramsey to notice bloodshot eyes. Lex shrugs.

"No problems."

Cheeks reddened and hair wet, Roger enters the kitchen just as Ramsey serves up his eggs and bacon. Lex slides the toast slices onto the plate and smiles as Roger zeroes in like a hawk. Ramsey grins over the novelty of having someone genuinely appreciate his cooking. Lex catches his eye.

"Everything's fine."

~~~  
Epilogue  
~~~

“Hold still...” Lex mutters as he applies the next stroke of liquid eyeliner. Roger freezes mid-fidget, trying to compose his expression.

“It’s cold. And it tickles.” He barely suppresses a twitch in time and glares when Lex merely regards him affectionately. “What if I’m allergic to this?”

“You’ll be fine. Besides,” Lex smirks. “It’s the price of beauty, my dear.”

He frowns and mutters, “I think I looked fine before.”

Lex has the nerve to chuckle. “If you recall, this was your idea. I only said I wanted to traumatize people...”

“Oh, I think this will work,” Roger amends dryly. “Our peers will definitely need therapy. I was just noting that you poking my eye out is getting old.”

“Bitch, bitch, bitch.”

The entire exchange is too much, and Roger can’t keep the smile off his face anymore.

“Just rehearsing my act.” He starts to giggle, laughing even harder when Lex takes a step away from the vanity in exasperation. “Am I being sarcastic enough?”

“You have learned well, grasshopper,” Lex intones solemnly. “But you will never surpass the master.”

His boyfriend’s expression just makes Roger giggle harder, until he has to clutch the other man to keep from falling off his perch on the bathroom counter. Lex sighs and steadies Roger with his free hand, leaning in closer until Roger can smell his favorite brand of soap on the warmth of Lex’s neck.

The sudden interest of his libido makes it easier to control his amusement, and Lex arches an eyebrow at Roger’s sharp inhalation.

“May I continue, so we’re not totally late?”

“Yeah, yeah.” One last snort and a sniffle, and Roger’s got it under control. He thinks of the looks they’ll get when they show up, and another giggle escapes while Lex frowns.

The gel in Roger’s hair is itching his scalp, but they finally managed to get it into something resembling spikes and he’s trying not to mess it up by scratching. His right eye is carefully outlined in black, with the left nearly done, and he can’t wait to see what he’ll look like with both. He determinedly ignores the ache in his gut as Lex exhales near his cheek, leaning closer to get a better angle. Roger tries to shift his hips away from Lex’s thighs, fake leather pants creaking as he realizes his tail bone’s gone numb.

He tries not to flinch as Lex carefully smudges the corner of his eyes, but Lex obviously has the easier costume this year. Even if he did have to wear Roger’s clothes to pull it off, which Roger thinks is kind of funny considering he didn’t need to wander into Lex’s side of the closet for his own. But who knew the guy literally doesn’t have any blue jeans? Like, at all. Roger could have sworn he remember seeing a pair somewhere in their laundry, but he had combed through Lex’s wardrobe and all he came up with was black, black, some charcoal grey, and oh-- more black. Roger’s mom is going to be so disappointed if he mentions it to her, because she obviously harbors the impression that Lex might secretly be willing to come over to the light side and just chooses to wear black in public. Little does she know...

“The collar looks good on you,” Lex mutters, focused on applying the eyeliner even though a flush is spreading over his cheeks.

Revery broken, Roger swallows with difficulty and realizes he’s holding his breath.

“It’s actually pretty comfy,” he responds quietly. They’ve been together for almost a year now, and he still gets this weird feeling in his chest when Lex leans close to him.

“And the cuffs?”

He scratches at his wrist with a black-coated nail. “A little small, but okay.”

Lex finishes with the make-up, capping the pencil and stepping back to survey his handy work. In an effort to keep the smile off his face, Roger attempts to look brooding. It gets an honest laugh from Lex.

“We’ll have to add a whole other category, just for you,” he muses. “Something like ‘Pollyanna goth.’ You’ll fit right in between the Mopey goths and the Punks.”

“Oh please. You’re one to talk.” Roger tugs on Lex’s cardigan sweater. “Although I’m sure there are other scrawny, pale jocks out there. Maybe the guys from the swim team?”

“I’ve got it! You can be a Gay goth.”

“That would be you, Lex.”

Lex rolls his eyes. “Gay as in ‘happy.’ Y’know, merriment and delight and all that crap?”

“Because I don’t know what gay means, Lex.”

His father has pointed out in the past that Roger’s gotten more sarcastic the longer he’s been with Lex. Dad sees this as the two of them merely rubbing off on each other. Roger views it as more of a cultivated defense mechanism.

“So are you done?” He finally asks when Lex seems content to just stare at him all night.

“Yeah. I think so...”

Hopping down from the vanity, Roger turns to contemplate his costume in the mirror. Tight black t-shirt, black leather pants, eyeliner, leather jewelry, black nail polish... He’s going to have to get pictures of this, because no one will believe him.

Lex’s arms snake around his waist, pulling Roger back against his chest. The pale blue sweater stands in stark contrast across Roger’s stomach, and the unadorned nails seem foreign. Lex almost always has polish on.

“You look hot.” Lex presses his lips to Roger’s neck, then his ear. “We should have gotten you pierced for the occasion.”

It’s an old debate between them. Lex thinks having metal imbedded in his skin is a turn on, whereas Roger doesn’t want to put any extra holes in his body. Same with tattoos. Although, the thought of the dragon on Lex’s lower back makes Roger turn around and grind their hips together.

“I’m not getting anything pierced Lex,” he states for the record before he licks his way into Lex’s mouth. The other boy opens readily for him, sucking on his tongue in a manner that will totally make them forget about Megan’s party.

“We’re going to be late,” Roger gasps when they break apart.

“Probably.” Lex turns his attention to the underside of Roger’s chin when he tries to break free.

“Victoria will be pissed...”

“Mmmm.”

Roger can’t tell if it’s that thought or what Lex is currently doing with his hands and Roger’s pants that’s making the other boy grin evilly at him, but he decides he doesn’t care.

It’s better to indulge themselves now than to walk around hard all night trying to be sociable. Besides, it’s not like they won’t be able to take their time when they get back home. If they can make it out the door. Roger has the feeling that will be the most difficult part of the evening for him, since Lex still has to put on Roger’s old highschool letter jacket.

He ushers Lex towards the bed, returning the smile.

~~~

Too tired to lift his hand and turn the page again, Roger lets the book he was supposedly reading for his Intro to Physics course drop on top of the covers. His eyes start to drift shut of their own accord.

A dissatisfied huff from the foot of the bed makes him inwardly grin.

From his reclining position at the head of their bed, he stretches and sinks deeper into the large pile of pillows he had nestled into. The room smells like sandalwood, from more of Lex’s candles. Not as heavy as usual, though, just light enough to leave Roger pleasantly relaxed.

A breeze runs over his bare chest as the air conditioning kicks on, but it’s not terribly uncomfortable, so he ignores it, eyes still closed. The cold button of his jeans brushes his abdomen with every breath, though, so he musters the energy to reach down and button it.

“Don’t.”

Roger freezes, not particularly startled, and smiles, picturing the look on Lex’s face. A rustle of thick paper, and his suspicions are confirmed. Arching his back a little more than was warranted for the movement, he raises his arms above his head, casually gripping the headboard. He’s glad all those hours of sports and at the gym haven’t gone to waste.

The scritch of pencil stutters to a halt.

He draws his left leg up closer to his chest, knowing that his unbuttoned jeans will gape open. Lex’s gaze is a weight upon his skin. It’s hard to keep a straight face. If Lex sees his self-satisfied grin, he might retaliate...

Roger lets the smugness show, even more when he hears the pencil and sketchbook being set aside. Shifting pressure on the bed, a hand next to his leg making the mattress dip.

“I thought you were in the mood to draw?” He murmurs, not moving.

Lips touch his abdomen, above his navel. “I can fill the rest in from memory.”

And that–

That makes Roger’s breath catch in his throat as much as Lex’s tongue tracing a line up his rib cage to his collar bone. His grip on the headboard tightens.

“Look at me,” Lex whispers, a soft exhalation against his cheek. 

Roger opens his eyes, meeting Lex’s dark stare.

No matter what... No matter what comes their way, no matter who they face– This will always be there. Roger will make sure of that.

Letting go of the headboard, he curves his hands around the smooth skin of Lex’s chest, around to the waist of his boxers, pushing them down. Lex leans in for a kiss that Roger meets eagerly, reveling in the stroke of Lex’s tongue across his own.

It used to scare him, how he could lose himself in this. In Lex.

The warm moist slide of lips. The feeling of Lex settling between his legs, cock scorching hot against the skin of his stomach. The awkward push and pull to remove Roger’s jeans. The tickle of soft hair against his legs. Gripping Lex’s shoulders so tightly his knuckles are white. Stifling his moans in Lex’s mouth. Rolling them over so he can grind his hips down. Just. Right.

So sweaty, so slick. His fingers slide along Lex’s side after a while, unable to get a grip. Lex nips at his ear, his neck. All he can do is pant harshly and try to keep breathing.

So much, thundering in his veins. So easy to get swept along in the tide, knowing it’s enough that it’s Lex’s hands, his lips, his skin.

Blood pounding through his head, making his limbs tingle. Exhilarating, to feel this alive with just one other person. To know he can turn Lex on more than any black magic, any game. That he’s the focus of Lex’s attention after all these years, just as Lex is his own obsession.

Muscles tense, blinding white across his vision. White noise instead of hearing Lex’s groans. The similar shaking of the body beneath his.

They aren’t perfect, but they fit together. Blunted the sharp edges and honed others.

He never wants to lose this. Can’t afford to. It’s in every breath he pants against Lex’s chest, in the tilt of his head against Lex’s shoulder. The way Lex’s arms are still clasped around him, sealing them together mess and all.

He isn’t afraid of losing himself anymore.


End file.
